Nahualli
by xLilim
Summary: Complete / In the midst of self-imposed doubt, Hinamori Momo travels to the human world to deliver a letter to a "witch" as Aizen's final request. AizenOC
1. Hisame Kazuye

******Disclaimer**: Bleach © Tite Kubo; OCs, non-canon plot © xLilim

**Warning**(**s**): The usual.

******xl note**: Originally titled "Omixochitl" during it's poll run. It came in second as a oneshot but turned into something completely outrageous.

The series is told, if not predominantly, in Hinamori's POV even though this is AizenOC. There is a reason but as to whether or not it'll be revealed I can't be certain, apart from that I wanted to embrace the fact that she could narrate a better story than any directly involved parties. Incidentally, this will be a short run, don't expect **Nahualli **to exceed five chapters.

Please enjoy this strange, mysterious concoction of mine and as always keep an open mind.

I have hopes for a Thursday update, but I won't make any promises.

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**Nahualli **| Hisame Kazuye

The first time Hinamori Momo heard the word "_nahualli_"was during a lecture. The advanced class had been gathered in one of the largest hall by their history instructor though there weren't enough students to fill every seat so a greater portion of the room was a ghost town lit by crisscrossing sunlight reflected in the mirrors on the opposite wall.

Hinamori was seated in the fourth row up between Abarai Renji and Kira Izuru and they were still talking about the incident two weeks ago that left their upperclassman Hisagi Shuuhei scarred and nearly left them dead had it not been for Captain Aizen and his lieutenant, Ichimaru's interference. She let them talk without her input, whispering as the instructor, Momose, set out her lesson plan over the podium. She was a wizened, good-natured woman with a headful of gray hair and a thin body clothed in heavy black robes that trailed behind her in a flutter.

Momose had scrawled the foreign word on the gigantic blackboard and under it were characters that read "_mahou-tsukai._" The wrinkled instructor paced along the front desks, starting her lecture with a brief introduction to its subject: the spiritually inclined. Hinamori flipped through her textbook, a massive book detailing the history of Soul Society alongside other worlds like the Human World and Hueco Mundo. She always glimpsed through it during her free time, learning things she found interesting and rereading them on the nights she missed her friends in Rukongai.

"…is divided into three categories: Shinigami, Hollow and Human," said Momose in that booming voice of hers. "However, humans soon developed abilities due to continuous exposure to the spiritual realm. They soon became known as mediums and psychics able to see wandering spirits and Hollows who caused the calamity for them. Since the alteration, two races of superhumans were born into the Human World: the Quincy and the Nahualli."

Momose paused to glower at a pair of giggling girls in the second row, silencing them. "The Quincy, who were mediums able to detect Hollows, learned to turn their spiritual abilities into a weapon to fend against the Hollow, whereas, the Nahualli, psychics blessed with large spiritual reserves, turned their abilities into infinite power.

"In time, Soul Society made contact with both races, intervening with the Quincy due to a clash in ideals and seeking the Nahualli for their blessed nature with hope for an alliance. As tension rose between the Quincy and Shinigami, the Nahualli were placed in a difficult position when asked to leave neutrality and chose a side. Ultimately, they sided with the Shinigami."

Momose dragged on the history lecture to the eradication of the Quincy and the decline of the Nahualli population before focusing completely on the latter.

Hinamori scribbled down everything the instructor said and felt Renji looking over her shoulder to read whatever he had missed.

"The Nahualli started as religious shaman and priests that believed in appeasing their savage gods through sacrifice. Seven lineages were born from those chosen," Momose continued, writing out the family names. "The Nasr and Qasim function under the monarchy of the Mzali somewhere in the Human World. They have no affiliation with Soul Society and remain neutral." She gestured to each name with a pointing rod, linking them to the word 'impartial,' and started on the associated families that worked alongside shinigami. "Rais, Zahir, Akram and Sayegh work for Soul Society as members of the Gotei 13 and Kidōshū. Sadly, the members of these esteemed lineages have dwindled. There only seems to be a little over twenty Nahualli left in this world, those blessed by the lineage being of the female gender. It's been a thousand years since the last male was born into any of the families, though it isn't known how the others fared to deterioration.

"Any questions so far?" Momose faced front.

A round faced girl put her hand up. Momose gestured for her to continue. "You say deteriorated, but how?"

"The Sayegh theorized it occurred due to the lack of suitable partners," Momose explained. "The Zahir argue that it was time for their lineages to end and the Rais believe the race to be infected with a disease. But none have been proven true."

Renji leaned over, blinking wearily. "Have you ever seen one?"

Hinamori glanced at him, feeling curious about what he said. How could they tell the difference between a Shinigami and Nahualli? She had never heard those family names before and if they were foreigners, they would probably be able to tell by their customs.

"That's a good question," muttered Kira before asking it himself. He worded it differently.

"Well, they don't look any different that any one of us, if that's what you think," answered Momose. "Your Zanjutsu instructor, Tsutano, is by birth a Nahualli. His mother was a Sayegh Shaman. The shamans are spiritual leaders with a lot authority, they are who I refer to as blessed by their lineage. It's important for each family to have one; they see it as sanctification and a connection to their old gods."

The class grew noisy as several students exchanged their opinion about the Zanjutsu instructor being part of a different race.

Renji shrugged. "He looks normal enough."

"Well, he wasn't going to have horns," Kira stated.

"Why horns?" asked Hinamori.

"All right, quiet down!" boomed Momose, clapping her hands. "I have an assignment for you."

Momose wanted a report on a randomly assigned family, from their basic history to the work the family has done over the years. Everyone was divided into four groups of six to study one family and finally those groups were split in half. Whoever brought in the best report received extra credit.

Hinamori remembered flipping through books in the academy's library and jotting down so much information her wrists hurt more than when she left Zanjutsu practice. Her group had a chance to learn more about the culture because Tsutano Keizou, their instructor, thought Renji and Hiro were exceptional in class. He also went as far as introducing them to his brother's teahouse to interview him about their grandmother where they learned Tsutano Kino retired from the Gotei 13 three hundred years prior to open a business. He married and had two daughters, but neither had been blessed.

The Nahualli families called the gift of spiritual inclination a blessing; a shaman was a gift of the Gods. The last Sayegh Shaman was a dead girl called Hisame Kazuye that only Kino mentioned.

"My grandmother predicted she would continue the Sayegh line had she been given the love she deserved," he had said in a bittersweet tone. "In the end, she didn't deserve what she got, but I'm just as guilt for not stopping it from happening."

Hinamori was still seated with Kino. Renji was in the shop with Hiro and Michiko, skimming through their selection of sweets. She looked away from her classmates and caught a glimpse of his face, inscrutable with traces of melancholy.

Kino's eyes flickered to her; a wide smile masked his face. "It's nothing. Please excuse me."

She never forgot how quickly he left the room or the feelings it invoked in her. But once the report was completed and she never heard the term Nahualli again. Individuals from any of the four families were either Kidōshū or her comrades in the Gotei 13 and she understood why they roamed Soul Society treated no differently. They were soldiers that worked just as hard to gain the things they had over the years.

It was never as important as it had been that day until Captain Hirako Shinji placed a letter in her hands saying he picked it up by mistake. She took it and her confusion to a quiet corner in the bustling office building as her captain found excuse upon excuse to laze around than get through the mountain of paperwork she had stacked on his desk.

Hinamori leaned against the window frame, feeling a breeze tousle her hair, and examined the envelope. She stared at the lettering nostalgically as if she had seen it before but forgotten. Its surface seemed battered, no longer a pure white but a dozen shades darker to the point it resembled yellow and the envelope was coarse and wrinkly under her fingertips. The letter was old.

She opened it curiously, tearing the end of one side and tugging out a folded slip of paper as aged as its exterior. As she unfolded it, something fell at her feet and when she bent down to take it in her hands the name Hisame Kazuye stared back at her. She took it—a note folded at the edges to seal its contents—and eyed it before remembering the letter in her hands. The reason the writing caused nostalgia was that it belong to the ex-captain and traitor, Aizen Sōsuke. Putting a name to the words brought bitterness to her tongue that stayed with her the rest of the morning. She didn't read the letter, but she didn't throw it away either.

Hinamori pocketed it and took it home with her, struggling to push the thought from her head. She had every intention of burning it without reading, but regardless of it all, she felt compelled to see what sort of lies he spewed to her next and whether the past fourteen months had been enough time to heal the emotional and physical scars he left behind when he treated her as a catalyst to his ploys. Without the manipulation, she might have seen reason and known he couldn't be helped—he didn't need the help she begged Tōshirō to give. He was where he belonged now, sealed away where he could never pose a threat.

The thought stayed fresh in her mind through many nights. It kept her up most of them, searching the darkness for the wrinkled letters and torn envelopes at her desk. She turned away closing her eyes so many times she lost count. Desperate and helpless, she hated the images those words summoned in her head of the disturbed girl she had been a year ago whose mind was fed sweet-sounding lies to disguise a strong, rotting poison. It could have just happened yesterday. She might have recovered from the worst of her injuries only hours ago and now she lay in bed questioning it all, but that wasn't the case.

Hinamori thrust the letters into the top drawer one late morning and slammed it shut without a thought, exhaling. She smelled of sweat, dirt and sunlight after hours of strenuous training under the scorching sun. She sat before her desk, staring absently at the shadow the letters left behind singed into the sleek pale wood. It was her imagination, her head knew, but her eyes didn't see. She tried to clean it, raking a damp cloth to the spot repeatedly, knowing without believing.

Afternoon dragged on after returning to her archiving. She shuffled in and out of rooms, gathering documents and filing them away on tall shelves, keeping busy, trying to ignore the curiosity that led her through a dozen documents written about Hisame Kazuye. She wasn't thinking about it, she told herself often, but she was. Whenever the silence was long the thought crept back into her head and latched on tight. She couldn't shake it off. She could only endure it.

"Oi."

"Ah, Captain Hirako," Hinamori murmured, looking up from the splay of documents on the table to the blank-faced captain. She pointed to her papers. "Do you need these?"

"No," he answered, "take yer time. You've jus' been a little off lately. D'ya have something in yer mind?"

"Yes, uhm—" Hinamori opened her mouth, intent on asking about the Hisame Kazuye mentioned in the second letter. Tsutano Kino mentioned that same person—unlikely it was a different person since she looked it up during her research to find a single address located in First Division—and somehow, she wondered if her captain had been around when she was alive. She shook her head, deciding against the question and dropping her gaze. "It's nothing, never mind."

"Ya sure?" he pressed.

Hinamori deliberated and hesitated for as long as a minute that might have lasted an hour before finally nodding. She returned the papers to the table's surface and dropped her hands over her lap.

He reached for a chair and took a seat. "Okay, what's on yer mind?"

The best way to get around asking the question was stretching the truth. "I keep coming across the name of a woman I'm not sure exists and I've been so curious I haven't been able to concentrate properly."

"Well ya must've heard it from somewhere, no?"

"I've read her name recently," she admitted. "And when I was back in the academy, I did a report on her lineage."

His expression changed to one of understanding. "Lineage, let me guess, a Sayegh Shaman called Hisame Kazuye."

"How did you know?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Everyone learns of the Nahualli in the academy and Hisame Kazuye is the most famous name in the bunch, besides you left a couple of books our with most her information. Wasn't hard to guess." Captain Hirako grinned. "Nicest kid you've ever met."

Hinamori flushed, having completely forgotten about the mess she left. "She was young?"

"A young girl the last I saw 'er," he answered. "What d'ya want to know 'bout her?"

"How did she…?"

"…die?" he finished.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I wish I knew," he said, shrugging.

"I spoke with Tsutano Kino," she continued, questions endless. "He expressed a lot of regret about how things turned out."

"She was hurt," Captain Hirako replied, nodding curtly. "Yes, multiple times. If ya walk down the street to a chorus of greetings, she met with vicious scorn. No one loved her since her grandmother died for a mistake her mother committed and nobody tried. It wasn't long before she grew tired of the lifestyle and adapted, things got sloppy then—she was lost most her life—and suddenly she was dead. Nobody knew how or why, but Tsutano-san took most of the blame."

"Why?"

"It was his job as an older brother and he thinks he should have done something about it, but he was too much of a coward to do it."

She thanked her captain for the conversation and continued her work without once losing concentration.

Hinamori didn't understand why Aizen would want anything to do with a dead girl, but it gave her the incentive and courage to rummage through her top drawer that evening.

The letter was short and in his writing. It started with an apology for the wrongs he had committed against her and finished with a request. "…_deliver the letter to Katarzyna. She has all the answers you want and much more. It isn't surprising that you should want to forget the hardships you've endured and she can help you._" For handing the squared envelope to Katarzyna, he gifted her a woman's knowledge and ability, a unique apology that didn't look as genuine as it would have fourteen months ago. He left a Human World address located outside of Japan. The letter had more writing in the back, a short revelation that intrigued her in mysterious ways.

"_Katarzyna grants wishes._"

Hinamori folded her letter in half and placed it under a velvet box. She kept Hisame Kazuye's squared correspondence in front of her, unable to shake the curiosity she had to open it. The girl in question was dead. It wouldn't hurt anyone if she peeked inside. Besides, he wanted her to take it to a woman called Katarzyna. She didn't think she could pronounce the name properly, let alone find her domicile.

She gave into temptation and peeled away the fold to the neat writing inside. "_You owe me a favor._"

. .

[ **1** ] _Nahualli_– a sorcerer/sorceress, witch/wizard and is pronounced "Nah-WAH-lee" as per my interpretation.

[ **2** ] 魔法使い (lit. _mahou-tsukai_) – a person who has/uses magical powers.

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**Extra Corner**:

* Nahuatl, the official language of the Aztec, is the main language used with the Nahualli, much as Quincy is to German and Arrancar is to Spanish. That being said, I will use references to the Aztec culture as it is where the Nahualli origins lie as shamans and priests and afterlife interpretations, as well as references to their many Gods and the customary sacrifices to appease them. It's a rich culture and I'm quite familiar with it. I did my fair share of research and used it as a base to create the Nahualli, anything that detracts from the factual is all fiction and twisted to fit the mold I am striving to create.

* On a side note, I feel offended by my own usage of "savage gods" in one of Momose's statements, but I feel they set a form of standard that could be seen that way by other people given the amount of women and children and men they sacrificed to their Gods.

* Shamans still exist within the Nahualli and for many, many generations they have been female. They are considered to have been "blessed" by their lineage. And that's what Momose said in her lecture that there haven't been any male shaman, not that the Nahualli are a pure female race.

* Since I'm familiar with the Nahuatl language, I'll give direct translations and pronunciations. I may be uncertain with a couple here and there because I'm not fluent in the language and welcome anyone who is to correct me.


	2. Katarzyna

******xl note**: A Thanksgiving treat for those who celebrate it. A random update for those that don't. Regardless, I kept my promise. Many thanks to the people that favorited and alerted, but most of all thank you to **KawaiiRiniBunny** for reviewing.

Before you start, I added an "Extra Corner" in the previous chapter where I offer you explanations or details relevant to the story. You will find them at the end of the chapter so long as I have anything else to say.

The third chapter will be shorter and may be in our main character's perspective, though it could work in the same narrative.

Enjoy reading. :)

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**Nahualli **| Katarzyna

Hinamori Momo stood rooted to a cobblestone path flanked by towering stone apartments and blooming trees, whose white flowers lay scattered on the ground beneath her feet. The gray sky above dimmed as the sun began making its descent behind the cluster of commercial buildings situated a number of blocks away. The iron streetlights blinked to life, illuminating her pale, starstruck face.

Pedestrians around her spoke in foreign tongues and scurried past the lonely street in groups of threes and fours dressed in their finest sparkling dresses and pantsuits where the lights were dimmer than the skylights and a low, rumbling music emerged. She observed the liveliness of human life with surprising curio that for a second she had forgotten the reason why she left Soul Society to start.

Hinamori twisted around the piece of paper in her hand as laughter filled her ears and the streetlamp closest to her flickered on. She moved closer to it, head bent over the messily scribbled directions in her hands and cast wary looks to the street names printed on the side of the left building, indicating her location. She tried comparing words, holding the paper high above her head and under the sign, tilting her head to the side skeptically.

Strands of dark hair feathered across her forehead as she let out a defeated sigh. Her heart was still pounding in her ears and the voice of reason continued asking her to reconsider. Being out here, in the emptiest street of a bustling city searching for the person who lived in the address scrawled in the paper, went against everything she worked for the past year. However, despite it all, Hinamori felt going through with it might settle the restlessness in her heart. She broke a couple of rules for the sake of her mental sanity and opened a Senkaimon to the outskirts of this French city trying not to think about the consequences or the man and reason that brought her there.

"You're on the right street."

Hinamori yelped and whirled around in surprise.

"Did I scare you? Sorry."

A scrawny teenage girl with tangles of platinum hair stood off the sidewalk carrying a heavy load of boxes. She regarded her with an easy smile that lit her honey-colored eyes, but beyond her infectious laughter, she was a plain girl with a pointed face and a long nose. Her hair was cropped to her chin, unkempt, and she sported faded bruises and healing scratches on her arms and legs. She was lean and shapeless under a baggy pair of overalls and purple tank top, not to mention barefoot.

Hinamori brightened. The girl knew Japanese. "It's fine," she said hastily. She inched closer nervously, fingers quivering as she held the note where the girl could see it. "Do you know where this is?"

The girl leaned over, standing a few inches taller than Hinamori. "Oh yeah, follow me," she replied, hopping onto the sidewalk, the boxes unmoving. She turned back. "I'm going there right now."

Hinamori bowed deeply as she voiced her appreciation and started after the jolly girl. They followed the pavement until the curve into the crosswalk where most of the stylish pedestrians had gathered to cross once the cars stopped rushing past the glowing green light. Instead of crossing, they turned left into a line of shops, pharmaceuticals in the far end and a confectionary store two doors away. The girl avoided oncoming pedestrian traffic with ease, twisting around to make room for single walkers and walking off the sidewalk to let through larger groups pass. She greeted everyone she encountered and most responded with their own, some holding her up for a short conversation. She embodied contagious positivity, something that made Hinamori feel as though her actions weren't as bad as she feared.

The street went on straight for over five minutes in which Hinamori's feet started growing uncomfortable in a pair of strap sandals to match the short flowered dress buckled at the waist partnered with a cropped leather vest. They were heeled and she wasn't as used to walking in them as she would have wished, especially on the cobblestone and uneven sidewalk, but after a second left turn, they arrived to an emptier area. The row of stores beyond the corner shop had their windows and doors boarded and their signs rusted and broken.

"In here."

The girl leaned the full weight of her boxes onto one hand and pushed open the glass door. The shop was all glass with black velvet drapes that shielded the inside from view save the open sign hung at the entrance. It was a small establishment with a wooden sign that read something foreign and a box of light above the door strung above her head.

Hinamori stepped in after the girl to a room cluttered in antiques ranging from marble statues, artistic vases lined on shelves, oil paintings, racks of clothing, samurai swords and indigenous jewelry in display. Above her a dozen glass orbs shone, casting a misty light across the ancient items all around her and under her feet was a thin maroon carpet. She lifted her eyes to the front of the shop where a glass counter sat with a dozen glittering stones on display. Behind it, a woman stood scribbling into a notebook with thick hair the color of sparkling champagne draped over her shoulder in a loose braid and black embroidered tunic that fell past her thighs over a pair of trousers that narrowed at the ankles.

"Where do I put the deliveries?" asked the girl with a note of accomplishment.

"Storage," the woman answered calmly, not bothering to look up from her work. A curl fell across her cheek. "Ask Akaho to help you sort the new inventory. Did you have trouble?"

"Patrick hit on me again."

"Did he now?" she mused, sounding a strangely indifferent, flipping to an empty page to continue writing.

"Oh, mama, I brought…uhm…" The girl faced Hinamori as she halted beside the counter to a curtained doorway behind it. She looked both troubled and embarrassed. "I forgot to ask for your name. Sorry."

"Hinamori Momo," she piped, inclining her head respectfully as insides constricting in apprehension.

The woman lifted her eyes at the sound of her voice, a green hue so bright it was almost translucent under the shine of lights over her head. She had strong features, sharp cheekbones, a pointed nose, sculpted lips and a pair of beauty marks lined under her right eye. There was something undeniably beautiful, but haughty, about this woman that made her feel downright awkward. The smile playing on her lips felt all too familiar to Hinamori as if she had seen it a dozen times before.

"I'm Iyo," introduced the barefoot girl. "Hisame Iyo. Nice to meet you. Oh, I should probably bow…that's the custom, right mama?"

Hinamori stood paralyzed by the girl's surname. It was the same as the dead girl she researched in Soul Society, but the idea forming in her mind was far crazier. _It can't be._

"Incline your head," her mother replied, closing her notebook with her pen inside.

Iyo did as she was told, excusing herself with a cheery smile through the doorway and disappeared behind the flutter of black curtains.

Hinamori's mind was in chaos. She wanted to ask if she had any relation to Hisame Kazuye or if the woman standing in front of her was the dead girl. After a debilitating moment, Hinamori plucked up her courage to approach the woman, stuffing the address into the bad slung across her chest. She made eye contact, gulping down the lump in her throat.

"Can I help you with something, Hinamori Momo?" the woman asked with a business-like smile.

Panicked, Hinamori remembered the letter and rummaged through her purse for the neatly folded letter. "I'm looking for a woman called Katar…zyna." She felt her face flush at her hesitant attempt to pronounce the name and noticed the woman's smile widened.

"You shouldn't trouble yourself with that name," she said knowingly. "I only use it because Katarzyna sounds better in French."

Hinamori's cheeks burned brighter. "What should I call you?"

"I won't pretend not to have seen your reaction to Iyo's name," she said, lowering her voice. "My family name has a certain degree of fame back in that cesspool of yours." She leaned forward, elbows propped on the counter and rested one cheek in her palm, meeting her at eyelevel. "For what reason did he send you here?"

"He?"

"Tall, shamelessly handsome, glasses," she elaborated, gesturing for each feature in some odd form. "Aizen Sōsuke is the only person alive that knows of this address. The only one that knows I didn't die in that freak accident. Except, you suddenly know as well. He must have sent you for a reason. A person like me is rarely anyone's first choice."

Hinamori slid the letter across the counter in response, directly under Hisame Kazuye's fingernails face up so she could see her name scrawled across the front.

Kazuye's lips twisted in discomfort in recognition of the writing. She snatched it from the surface and stalked into the backroom, the black curtain fluttering in her wake.

Hinamori stood there with her heart in her throat when the drapes flickered once more and she poked her head out. "What are you waiting for? Come in," she ordered, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. "Hurry up. I don't have nearly as much time as your stupid friend might."

_Stupid friend…? _Hinamori scurried after her, bumping her side on the pointed end of the counter in her haste, but pushed through the hangings to a sweet smelling room furnished in red couches and a center table. In the far end of the room, she saw a calligraphy scroll hung on a nail with a vase of incense burning underneath it between withered flowers in tall vases. On the other side there was a door leading into a short hallway with a staircase where she could make out the sound of Iyo and another person speaking in what she assumed was the storage.

Kazuye sunk into the nearest armchair, tearing open the letter. "Sit where you'd like."

Hinamori stepped around a couch and took a seat on the edge of it where she waited for some direction.

"Prick," cursed Kazuye beneath her breath, sealing the letter. She stuffed it inside the edge of the couch cushion and returned her attention to her visitor. "Where is he?"

Hinamori blinked, for an instant lost, but remembered she meant Aizen. "In Soul Society—Muken."

She wasn't a shinigami and she had been too young at the time of the accident said to have killed her. She didn't know why she expected the woman to know where that was…she just blurted it out. She couldn't go back on it because Kazuye furrowed her brow in complete annoyance.

"Muken?" she repeated, masking an undertone that gave away her true feelings. "Who does he think I am?" She slid forward in her seat. "What did he promise you to deliver this?"

Hinamori twiddled her thumbs, bemused. "He didn't promise me anything exactly," she admitted. "He just said that you granted wishes…and that you could help me."

Kazuye leaned into the couch's arm. "What I do is nowhere near as magical as wish granting. If you came all this way to deliver this letter, you're not here for a wish; you're here for the impossible." She shrugged, uninterested. "But that's irrelevant. I owe it to you to tell you if it is in my power to do whatever it is you need help with. So tell me why you came all this way to deliver this letter?"

"I…" Hinamori trailed off. The easiest way to express her reasons lay in divulging stories of the darkest days in her life and trying to pretend that they weren't nearly as bad as they might sound, but she didn't want to waste anymore of Kazuye's time. The images playing in her mind sped through like a fast-forward film where things got horrible far too quickly and her stomach suffered the effects. "I just want to forget everything that happened."

Kazuye's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Forget what happened or what someone did to you?"

The shinigami glanced up at her, oddly comfortable with her response. "The latter."

Kazuye exhaled deeply, abandoning her seat to walk about the room. She was silent for several minutes as she tinkered with the incense burner by the wall. "I want to listen to your story before I help you," she started, "assuming you are familiar with the term, '_nahualli._'" She looked over her shoulder as Hinamori nodded. "Unlike others who are like me, I use a different approach to use my abilities which involves formulas. I need certain information to create these formulas that I can only get through conversation."

The clatter in the storage ceased and the whole establishment fell into an odd silence that rang with the soft pad of Kazuye's footsteps and her own noisy heartbeat.

"You can get me into Soul Society, yes?" asked Kazuye suddenly, leaning over the back of her couch.

"What?"

"Can you get me into Soul Society?"

"Why do you—?"

Kazuye's eyebrows pulled together in disappointment. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?" questioned Hinamori worriedly.

"What you're doing here," Kazuye answered firmly.

"He said it was a favor."

"A favor?" The words slid out of Kazuye's mouth like a challenge.

"Yes," she replied meekly.

"You delivering the contents of this letter to me will be considered an act of treason if found out by Soul Society," Kazuye explained. "Did you know that?"

It scared her. "Treason?"

"Treason."

"I'm just delivering a letter," Hinamori sputtered, heart hammering in her ribcage. "I didn't do—"

Kazuye pulled the letter from between the cushions and held it open for Hinamori to read the words she already had in secret. Except, this time was different. Meeting Hisame Kazuye and knowing she was alive made the difference. They were only five words, but just as the sentence was short, the letter was emotionally charged. Aizen had left it somewhere knowing it would reach her through unsuspecting hands and inevitably reach Kazuye's. This woman seemed to have been the only person to recognize him for who he was, a power hungry monster and not the façade he used to fool the rest of the world. She could see that much in her reaction to Aizen being in Muken and in the way she talked about him. There was more to the story than she could ever come to comprehend.

The emotion swelling in her belly disconcerted her.

Hinamori lifted her eyes. "A favor?"

"If he is in Muken, as you say, I think you can figure out the sort of favor he's asking me to do."

Realization crashed over her back. "He wants you to get him out?" She panicked, rising from her seat. "But that's—"

"Treason," Kazuye repeated simply.

"What's treason?" called Iyo, appearing at the doorway.

"I received a job that involves treason and I can't exactly turn it down," Kazuye explained, walking to Iyo. She smoothed out the girl's messy strands of hair and pushed it behind her ears. "Actually, I could use your help."

Iyo brightened, the meaning of treason dwarfed in the face of her excitement. "Really?"

"Although, we will have to postpone your current lessons."

Hinamori had never seen anyone exceed the girl's level of delight. "No lessons?"

"This won't be a vacation; you will undergo harsher lessons and learn my craft when the time is right." Iyo nodded with determination. Kazuye regarded Hinamori with a grin. "For now, I want you to accommodate this young woman. You will be staying, won't you? I don't expect you have somewhere else to go."

"I have to report back soon—"

"No need, I can have you temporarily assigned to this area," she interrupted with an air of dismissal. "Feel free to treat this no different than your home. Iyo, don't forget to introduce her to Akaho."

"Yup!"

Kazuye headed to the draped doorway, halting at the sound of Iyo's voice. "Where're you going, mama?"

"I have to gather supplies," she answered, slipping away. "Start dinner without me."

Iyo caught Hinamori's gaze. "She never lets me skip lessons," she said after she heard the sound of the front door swing open and shut. "She's a harsh teacher, so I don't get a lot of breaks and I already have a mastery over pigment and texture, oh, and the elements too, but even if I begged, she wouldn't teach me harder formulas because I'm too young."

The girl put her at ease or maybe it was Kazuye's absence that had done it. Hinamori felt her body unwind.

"How old are you?"

Iyo leaned over the couch. "I'll be thirteen soon."

Hinamori half expected her to be older than she looked. It was normal in Soul Society. "Is it all right for me to stay here?"

"If mama says so, yes," chirped Iyo, nodding.

"Wouldn't your father mind it?"

"I don't have one of those, it's just me, mama and—ha, I forgot to introduce you! Akaho-san!" Iyo rushed into the short hallway and into the first door on the right of the staircase. "Akaho-san! We have a visitor! Mama said to introduce you! She's gonna be staying with us!"

Iyo reemerged a minute later dragging a woman by the arm. The woman was tall and willowy with bright red hair that fell past her lower back and a round face. She had coppery skin and a sharp golden stare. She was dressed in a sleeveless turtleneck that showed off the intricate markings tattooed over her arm and a pair of tight pants with a workshop apron wrapped around her waist holding a number of tools.

"This is Hinamori Momo, she's a shinigami from Soul Society—" Hinamori opened her mouth to question it. She never said she was a shinigami. Iyo zeroed in on her in scrutiny, stretched both hands in front of her and made a square by joining her fingers as if she were holding a camera. "You read around lieutenant level. Am I right?"

"Yes," remarked the redhead, mussing Iyo's hair. "This one's forgotten to introduce me. I'm Fujitani Akaho; I serve the Sayegh Shaman as her bodyguard." She inclined her head in proper greeting. "And to ease your worry, Iyo can read spiritual energy."

"Read it?" she repeated dubiously.

"That's a difficult subject to explain," said Akaho politely. "I should start preparing dinner. Do you have any particular preference, Hinamori-san?"

"No," she said nervously. She thought it was best not to be choosy since they Kazuye agreed to give her a place to stay without her asking. "Anything's fine."

_Is this Nahualli hospitality?_

Akaho left out the curtained doorway, announcing that she would be heading out to the grocery store. Iyo took the time to give Hinamori the grand tour of her adobe. She led her through the half-open door and pointed out the storage, which turned out to be a smaller room than Hinamori anticipated with ceiling to floor bookshelves that covered every wall that held glass jars full of herbs and flowers. The boxes Iyo had been carrying were sitting stacked by the doorway; the one on top was opened to reveal packages of multicolored powder. There were shorter bookshelves lined through the room's midsection and space in the center where a pair of loveseats sat opposite of each other with a table in the middle. There were rows and rows of books in each of all shapes and sizes.

"I collected all these books since as far as I can remember," said Iyo, wandering about. "Mama uses this place to store ingredients. I've never seen her use anything in here, so I think she's a hoarder."

Hinamori glimpsed at a number of titles. "Have you read all of these?"

"Yeah," she replied cheerily. "Mama lets me do whatever I want after my lessons. Since I'm not supposed to spend too much time with ordinary people, I don't leave the house much."

Hinamori decided against asking for a reason, thought Iyo seemed like the sort of person that wouldn't mind disclosing it, and waited for the young girl to move on with the tour.

The kitchen was situated past the staircase through a short hallway. It was tiny with white cupboards and wide countertops cluttered in kitchen appliances. It was homely and a slight bit messy, but clean, and the squared table was covered in a patterned tablecloth with a platter of apples.

Hinamori noticed Iyo's name carved on the wall and the lines that measured her growth year after year. She ran her fingers across the wooden surface, feeling the lines bump against her skin.

What did it mean for Kazuye to return to Soul Society for Aizen's sake? Did she mean to leave this house full of memories with her daughter to release a criminal from his sentence? And then what happened? Would they return?

Could they?

She felt horrible about coming here in the first place, but when Kazuye mentioned that she could help her forget all the things she wanted, she succumbed to selfishness. She might not remember she did this after Kazuye helped her, so she wouldn't have to carry the guilt.

Akaho returned from her shopping and caught them in the kitchen, suggesting Iyo show her the rooms upstairs while she started on dinner.

The first door that came into view upon reaching the second floor was Akaho's room. Inside, the room was simple and quaint with purplish blue walls, a twin sized bed with a metal headboard and a crème colored comforter. There was one window near one a corner, an old trunk with its color starting to peel, and a dresser. Everything about the room was neat and in order, without a speck of dirt.

"My room is the last room in the hallway," announced Iyo as soon as she shut the door behind her. "It's the biggest one, right next to the bathroom."

The master bedroom had deep green walls covered in strange symbols and markings and foreign words. A large canopy sat in the middle of a circular fur carpet and had its drapes tied at its posts. Although, the room was twice the size of Akaho's, there wasn't much in terms of furniture except for a mirror in the corner and a pair of trunks.

Hinamori curiously approached the wall closest to the light switch. Her fingertips felt the first spark of electricity, the feel of reiryoku spreading into every inch of wall space. She removed her hand quickly and turned to Iyo.

"This is a barrier," Hinamori confirmed. "These symbols and markings." She looked back at the wall; the marking shared some resemblance to ancient runes. "This is an incredibly powerful barrier—did your mother cast it?"

"The entire house is in a barrier," Iyo replied, heading toward the twin closet doors. "We have a big closet too, but mama also hoards in here."

Once Iyo pulled apart the closet doors, a light blinked on. It illuminated the inside. There were empty hooks on opposite walls and shelves above them with different colored shoeboxes marked with a new color. The boxes were also stacked on the floor, sheltered under a square desk holding up an exact replica of the street where the shop was situated.

"The boxes are all clay. Mama likes building models." Iyo laughed suddenly. "She probably sounds like a crazy cat lady."

Hinamori leaned forward, inspecting it. "This is incredibly detailed."

Iyo and Hinamori left the room to the middle of the hallway. "These two are guest rooms," Iyo said, pointing at two adjacent rooms, pushing one door open a one bed, one dresser room. "Mama sleeps in the sitting room, in case you're wondering. She doesn't like the rooms, so she doesn't have one. You can take either one of these. Did you bring anything with you?"

"No, not really," she admitted. "Uhm, Hisame—"

"Iyo is fine!"

"Iyo-san—"

"Drop the honorific, I'm younger. Iyo. Just Iyo."

"What did Hisame-san go out to do?" asked Hinamori curiously.

"Gather supplies, didn't you hear her?"

"What type of supplies? Like the things in the storage room?"

"It depends on the job," Iyo answered thoughtfully. "Ah, you're the one that brought her the job. Do you know what it is? Are we going to Soul Society?"

Hinamori heard Kazuye tell Iyo that she would need her help, she saw no reason to keep it to herself. "Someone asked her for a favor."

"Do you know who this person is? Can you tell me about them—no, tell me about Soul Society?"

Hinamori was taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Hasn't your mother told you about Soul Society?"

"Only that she left a few months before I was born," Iyo replied. "She used to tell me that she lived in a big house all by herself and that there were a lot of different buildings and a lot of strong people she used to hate."

A strange feeling wrapped itself around Hinamori. "Before you were born?"

Iyo nodded.

"But you're twelve."

"Yeah."

Two complete centuries had passed since Hisame Kazuye died according to Soul Society's records, but just as she was about to ask about it she heard Kazuye holler from downstairs.

"Akaho! Iyo!"

Iyo perked up, grabbed Hinamori by the wrist and led her down the staircase. They ran into Akaho on the way into the sitting room just as Kazuye stepped through the curtained doorway, dragging a bloodied man in shinigami garb by the back of his kosode.

Hinamori froze dead in her tracks at the sight of blood trail his body left behind.

Kazuye dropped him over the floorboards and wiped her brow. Iyo rushed to her mother's side, taking her by the hand, peering at the shinigami curiously before looking back up at Kazuye. "Were you hurt, mama?"

"No," she answered, running a hand over the back of Iyo's head. "I found him like this." She met Hinamori's gaze. "Can you contact Soul Society, Hinamori-san? He was attacked by a Hollow."

Hinamori found that hard to believe as she remembered her words as she left. _"…I can have you temporarily assigned to this area."_

He wasn't attacked by a Hollow.

Kazuye smiled sweetly. She gestured Akaho, ordering her to perform first aid as Iyo bombarded her with a hundred questions a minute, most of which went unheard by her feigned concern.

Akaho did a number of things before glancing up at her employer with bloodied hands and a cool look in her eyes. "He's dead."

"Shame," Kazuye replied breathily. She stepped over the body with her daughter in tow. "How boring."

Hinamori watched flabbergasted. _What have I done…?_

"Hinamori-san."

She turned around, tense. Her palms were sweating and her eyes were wide in horror as she met with the Nahualli's apathetic face.

"Y-Yes?" she blurted, whispering.

"Come, dinner should be ready."

The air tightened around her windpipes and her heart rate went wild. For the first time since her arrival, her apprehension proved to have been a manifestation of the fear her conscious was all too familiar with—this woman was on a league of her own. Stronger, smarter, and—judging by the barrier surrounding the house—prepared.

"Okay," she said quietly, following the pair into the short hallway. She looked over her shoulder to the state the shinigami was in and wondered how she would ever come to explain something this terrible without committing herself to consequences.

Hinamori knew she wouldn't be leaving this place until Kazuye dictated and there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

**Extra Corner**

* The history lesson in the previous chapter was my best chance at giving you the gist of what a Nahualli is and what they can do. Somewhere in the chapter, Iyo mentions being unable to spend too much time around ordinary people and in the previous, Nahualli are described as having large spiritual energy reserves, which exactly be prevalent to the plot, but makes for a fun fact. Think, Ichigo's presence (large spiritual energy) awakened Orihime and Chad's powers (or gave them powers, however you see it). There's a reason why, but I might be able to squeeze it into the last few chapters of this, so I won't say it.

* I won't be getting into too much detail on how Nahualli use their power, but I'll be dropping hints like I did here. There are formulas, symbols, and markings involved and it's all complicated stuff.

* Thank you for reading. :)


	3. Ambient Pain

**xl note**: This was meant to be posted on the 30th, but I had an awesome day yesterday and today is my birthday and it can't get better than that. I had posted on my journal about delays because I sprained my wrist, it was minor so it'll take a week to heal, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. I'd go into detail on how it happened, but it's incredibly stupid so I like to pretend I was an inline skater that met with a disastrous fall. So I'm wearing a brace and now old my pens properly, but it hurts to bend it to type, so I type quite slowly.

We are half way through the story (which will exceed my 5 chapter limit by 1 or 2) and even closer to Aizen's appearance. That being said, I cut this chapter in half and I won't know if that was a good or bad idea until I post the next chapter.

With that being said, thank you for to **KawaiiRiniBunny** and** KaiaUchiha1** for reviewing the previous installment. I hope you enjoy this one as well, odd as it may be.

* * *

**Nahualli **| Ambient Pain

The wheel spun, round and round, its wooden frame blurring the room's comfortable background. Bookshelf upon bookshelf hazed as the wheel turned harder and newly spun thread fell into a wicker basket curled into itself like a snake baking in the sun. Above a dozen floating orbs filled the couch area with a misty light that made Hinamori mistake the moment for a dream.

It had been a little over three weeks since Soul Society mysteriously decided to assign her temporarily to the area while a permanent candidate was chosen from a number of potentials. Hinamori spoke directly to her captain, asking if it truly was acceptable for her to be away for an undetermined amount of time and he shooed her away with promises to handle everything as if she were present every day she was gone, knowing that was her biggest concern. She believed him. Hirako Shinji was reliable when needed and she needed him to be just that while she sold her soul to Hisame Kazuye, who had been guiltless since the temporary assignment had been given to her.

Kazuye didn't feel guilty about having killed an innocent man to start whatever madness it was she concocted.

However, as far as expectations went, Hinamori found herself disappointed. In the time requested of her to stay in the quiet French corner, she had fallen into the same pace as the women in the antique shop. The only thing she thought had been worth mentioning was the barrier marked on Iyo's bedroom walls, but beside that, living among them was simple and auspicious.

Kazuye tended to her antique store from 10AM to 5PM, indulging the handful of customers she received on a daily basis. The establishment itself made little to no money, but the few individuals that entered always found something interesting to look at among the antiques. Akaho busied herself with cooking meals and doing the housework, on off-days she left to one of the many clubs in the neighborhood to unwind, never forgetting to invite Hinamori to join her. She had yet to accept an invitation. Iyo did a lot of reading and running and errands. She seemed to be the only person out of the three to be seen outside often enough to have a decent conversation with the people. Hinamori had been told that Kazuye and Akaho were mostly known because one was beautiful and the other crippled by her own shyness. The latter was far from the truth.

Akaho wasn't shy. She was soft spoken but self-assured.

Nothing had been as she expected and because of it, Hinamori was sitting in the storage watching Kazuye spin woolen thread with her legs drawn up on the cushions and a small carton of orange juice in her hands. Kazuye invited her to sit and she feared it was time to tell her all about the story that brought her to the antique store from the start. But Kazuye engaged her in small talk, in common courtesies and nothing more.

"Do you do this often, Hisame-san?"

"Only when I need to," answered Kazuye with a small nod.

"Do you sell it?"

"No, but I always wanted to learn to knit."

"And you haven't?"

"I don't have the patience for knitting, but yarn comes in handy." Kazuye tugged her flowing sleeves up to her elbows and slouched, taking a much-needed break. "Akaho is very good with a needle. It's customary for Nahualli women to be taught needlework and spellwork. Akaho manages both better than any other I've met. She would have made any man a good wife."

Kazuye only had praise for Akaho, admiration born from a wealth of respect. "What about you, Hisame-san?"

"What about me?" she asked, crossing her legs.

"Did you think of getting married?"

"Think, no? Did, yes."

Hinamori wondered why she found that astounding in the first place. She smiled, interest. "Really?"

"Yes," she said gathering her basket from the ground as she stood. "That in itself is a story for another day."

Hinamori thought it was stupid not to have assumed someone like Kazuye had been married. Despite it all, she valued the things she had, specifically Iyo who she showered with love. Iyo was the world to her. Nothing else mattered. It was hard to think someone like that had iniquitous objectives, but she witnessed one firsthand and she found it difficult to forget that knowing smile Kazuye gave her when Akaho pronounced the man dead. There was no telling what was done to him and as far as everyone was concerned, the wounds sustained were kept open by strong Hollow reiatsu.

Yet, Hinamori felt that Kazuye had been guilty.

Kazuye picked up a few glass jars from the many shelves on the wall before returning to her seat to pick up where she left off.

Hinamori exhaled. She needed to say something, something she held onto for so long afraid of the response she might receive.

"Hisame-san?"

"Yes?"

"How do you know Aizen?"

"Do you want the short or long version?"

"Both," Hinamori blurted, heart pounding anxiously at the prospect of an answer.

Kazuye's eyes flickered to hers with a pleasant smile on her lips. "Simply put, Sōsuke was difficult to overlook and he was just as charming as he was evil. I don't think it would have mattered if we met under different circumstances. That's the short version," she finished quickly. "I'm sure you of all people know how hard it is to ignore him, given we've both bent to his will even though he's rotting in a prison as he should be."

Hinamori felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had a point. "But why didn't you refuse?"

"Because he's never refused me," she replied. "It was one of his ploys—his great extortion plan because only blackmail works on an idiot. I wouldn't have felt any qualms about turning you away, but I had a better idea."

Hinamori prepared herself to ask about the meaning of her words when Kazuye interrupted her. "You wanted to hear the long version, right?"

"Yes, if it's not too much to ask."

"I accidentally killed a man," Kazuye said bluntly. "Before you judge me you have to understand the condition in which the accidental murder happened. I was fairly young, far from being considered a full-fledged witch by Nahualli standards. You see, its common practice for parents to nurture their children until they grow into their capabilities. In other words, spiritual maturity. The best way to describe this relationship is thinking of the mother/father as the host and the child as a parasite without any long-term malicious damage.

"A child feeds on his parents' spiritual energy to strengthen his own and the blood bond between them. Without nurturing, a child's life expectancy is only a couple months. Their own uncooperative spiritual energy would kill them. Nurturing helps control it, keeps it at a healthy balance and prevents it from causing problems.

"Soon after the nurturing phase passes, a child goes through a secondary phase in which they can exhaust their spiritual energy and need replenishing. It's basically the same as the first phase except now the child can learn proper spellwork, but they have weak reserves then, it's up to a mother or father to build it up. Having no spiritual energy is as good as any death sentence.

"Because I had neither mother nor father, my grandmother devised a method in which I could absorb her own spiritual energy to keep my own under control. She created a set of pendants that could transfer her spiritual energy to me. But she died as soon as I reached my second phase and so there wasn't anyone around to help me." Kazuye wound her spinning wheel and gave it a push. "Luckily, I found a way to replenish my own power. I fed off whoever was willing. I basically evolved from a parasite to a leech."

She uncorked a jar full of lavender and pulled all of it with the exception of one. She tapped the glass with the tip of her nail three times and it filled with water.

"I fell in love with the first man to ever speak sweetly to me, not knowing what I was getting myself into. The week before I realized what he was trying to accomplish with our involvement, I absorbed too much of his spiritual energy," she continued. "My capacity had increased and I never knew until I saw him go paper-white in my arms. I nearly killed myself with grief. He was the love of my life and suddenly he was dead. The worst of it all, I didn't notice Sōsuke had been nearby and followed my hysteria to the dead body, which I was trying to bury.

"The fact that he was a known lieutenant didn't help. I wanted to die and instead of doing what I expected him to do, he told me to burn the body. That's how I know him."

"He told you to burn the body?"

"Yes," she reaffirmed, nodding. "He said it was a courtesy. And I was just standing there holding a dead man by the feet like an idiot."

Hinamori shifted in her seat, leaning forward to rest her chin on her knees. Her insides were mush and her mind a flurry of questions she didn't have the courage to ask. But she did ask one. She blurted it out really. The moment she heard herself say it, she regretted it.

"Did you know from the start? About who he really was? About what he really wanted?"

Kazuye idled with the spinning wheel, scraping her nails noisily across its wooden surface. "To say I always knew of his intentions would be a lie," she answered. "But he always let me know what I should expect of him."

Hinamori drew back into the cushioned couch and sat with Kazuye in silence, listening to the rumble of her spinning wheel.

Iyo entered the storage asking if they wanted anything to drink, a breath of fresh air in the tense atmosphere. Kazuye asked for coffee and Hinamori declined. The young girl rushed to tell Akaho their orders before returning to seat herself beside Hinamori.

"Mama, when are we leaving to Soul Society?" Iyo asked for the thousandth time in a whiny tone.

"When everything is ready," answered Kazuye.

"But we haven't done anything, all you do is work and spin yarn," Iyo complained. "You don't need any of this yarn, you hoarder."

"Perhaps, I am elongating our wait to teach you patience," remarked Kazuye. "It wouldn't kill you to trust in my decisions."

"No, you just want me to die of boredom."

Kazuye exhaled. "Yes, Iyo, because dying of boredom is a legitimate cause of death."

Iyo huffed, leaning on the couch's arm as she glanced in Hinamori's direction. "Can you tell me about the Gotei 13, Hinamori-san? I've asked mama, but she never wants to talk about Soul Society."

"What do you want to know?" Hinamori asked, pushing her hair behind her ears. She glimpsed in Kazuye's direction, the woman simply shook her head and continued working in silence. Iyo was at a hard age to raise.

"I want to know about the captains and the lieutenants and all about you," Iyo elaborated, happy with her response.

Hinamori complied with a sweetened smile.

Akaho entered with drinks and seated herself in an armchair to mutter secrets with Kazuye as Hinamori started on her explanation.

She talked about the thirteen divisions, naming the captains and lieutenants as well as describing their duties within the division they served. Iyo drank in the information eagerly. She asked a dozen questions; some Hinamori only came close to answering before she asked another. Kazuye eventually asked her to stop interrupting and listen.

Eventually, the conversation ran off course and threaded into a number of different subjects pertaining to the type of shops found in Soul Society and about all her favorite foods. Talk with Iyo was virtually endless, she proved time and again that she had too many ideas in her head, but she was curiously interesting. Hinamori enjoyed her company the most because she never felt awkward or useless around her, she felt at ease as if she were with an old friend.

Kazuye stopped spinning wool abruptly, eyes locked on her daughter. Akaho seemed to have said something to her. "Iyo, go upstairs and gather your things. We are taking a trip for your first and last lesson in this world."

Iyo jumped to her feet impatiently. "What kind of lesson is it?"

"The kind you won't forget easily. Now go."

The girl rushed out of the storage, slamming the door in her wake.

Kazuye stepped around the spinning wheel and seated herself in the armchair opposite of Akaho. She waved her hand in the direction of the door and a click announced the lock turning. Hinamori sat impassively, having felt the small bust of energy that slithered past her to accomplish the action and stared at Kazuye, speechless but impressed.

"Iyo is far too young to listen to adult discussion," Kazuye explained. "She's been quite irritable these past few days."

"She's been eating in excess as well," Akaho added. "Should I talk to her about healthy eating once more?"

"There's no need," Kazuye said peacefully. She leaned forward, removing the books from the round table between the couches. "She's impatient. She's always wanted to see Soul Society and now that it is a possibility, she's beside herself with excitement that it infuriates to know that the trip wouldn't be immediate."

"Perhaps you should explain to her that she can't have everything she wants."

Kazuye chuckled. "Iyo knows better than to make demands." She sat properly with her back straight and her hands clasped over her lap. "Now, why don't you start your reading?"

Hinamori watched Akaho pull a card from her jacket pocket and set it face-up so the blank side stared up at them. She gestured for Kazuye and the blond woman extended her hand to her.

"This is called a Blood Reading," Kazuye explained, glimpsing at Hinamori as if she had read her mind. "It's forbidden among our people, but there are practitioners in the Mzali Empire and they take apprentices for a price. Akaho was one of the best."

Akaho pricked Kazuye's index finger with a needle, inclining her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Sacrifice was once the only way to appease our gods and though we fulfilled our duty, they were angered and brought the Spaniards to our land to slaughter our kind under false pretense. The shaman families that remained removed human sacrifice and any form of bloodshed from our religion as a way to appease our angered gods."

"By a ridiculous set of rules, my offering blood for a reading is considered human sacrifice," Kazuye finished. A bead of blood dripped onto the white surface, splattering. "It's a way to control witch practices, no more than a stupid though."

Akaho watched the single drop of blood spread. She tapped it with her finger and it started to glow dimly.

Kazuye sucked on her finger and leaned back, observant.

The red liquid sprung off the card, swirling and twisting into various shapes above it before another tap from Akaho dropped them into place. Kazuye's blood created a design scribbled in illegible words and Akaho's eyebrows knitted in concentration as she attempted to decipher them.

Hinamori put her feet on the ground, leaning forward in curious inquiry. She looked from Kazuye's patient face and Akaho's mixed emotions wondering if whatever symbol marked the previous white surface said anything of great importance. She wanted to know if it could be done to her.

After a tense silence, Akaho locked eyes with her employer, serious. "May I advise you?"

"If it helps you."

"Soul Society will not welcome you; it will hit you harder than before. This will be your losing battle."

"I expected no less, but Soul Society is where Iyo will thrive," Kazuye said, unperturbed. "With the right practice, she'll be able to reach maturity faster than I can provide her."

"You are walking in the service of the man—"

"A man that can help me accomplish what I need for a small price."

"He is not asking for something small."

"That is my business," remarked Kazuye. "Your job is to obey my decisions, not lecture me. My life is lived for the future of my daughter's and this is the path I am taking."

Akaho found the comment so upsetting she excused herself, leaving out the front door despite its enchantment. Hinamori wanted to say something, but a sharp look from Kazuye silenced her until the sound of Akaho's footsteps were out of earshot. She couldn't ease back into her comfort and waited idly for the witch to say something, anything.

"She is quick to overreact, I apologize." Kazuye swiped the card from the center of the table and stared at it long and hard. "Blood Reading is all nonsense to me."

"Is it complicated?"

"I am an expert in complicated, this is devil's work." Kazuye tore it in half. "The idea behind it is teaching it to those worthy of being taught. Akaho went to the Mzali highly recommended."

"Did you try to learn?" Hinamori asked, watching her rip the card in fourths and sixths until the pieces fluttered onto the ground.

"I don't believe in fortunetelling," Kazuye admitted, returning to her seat at the spinning wheel. "One creates their own fate."

Hinamori sighed. She wanted so many answers she didn't feel right about asking and something told her that Kazuye knew all about it. Instead, she sat drinking the rest of her orange juice, considering all her options. Maybe it was better to lift the weight from her shoulders. She was in too deep to ignore the things she had seen. Hinamori steeled herself as she set the carton on the table, drawing Kazuye's attention.

"Hisame-san? I have a lot of questions I want to ask you," she started, hesitant. "I don't know if I should, but I—I need to know why. Why you killed that shinigami? Why you are willing to break laws for someone like Aizen?"

"…That's not as difficult a question as I thought it would be," Kazuye said, bemused but willing to answer. "If I had to give you a reason for the first, it was necessary to keep you here. I need a Senkaimon to get me through to Soul Society. I could have accomplished it myself, but Soul Society has long ago been triggered to send an immediate report as soon as any Nahualli steps through a Senkaimon since a disagreement with the Human World natives and that could put a dapper on my plans." She spun the wheel slowly with her fingertips. "For the second, I suppose it's for the same reason you're here."

Hinamori's heart sunk like a stone in a lake. "I-I thought I could forget," she sputtered, the pain was rusted but sharp and she had not thought of it in fourteen whole months until the letter. These past three weeks were constant reminders that she was doing something incredibly stupid. "You grant wishes and I wanted to forget. But you—"

"You experienced a moment of doubt," Kazuye interrupted. "You sat there staring at that letter for weeks until you're curiosity opened them. You told yourself to ignore them because Sōsuke is nothing but a bastard. Even if you had the option of forgetting, you fear remembering. Maybe my abilities aren't enough, or maybe you're a masochist that's still in love with the man he pretended to be for so long. Perhaps, you're an idiot."

Every word was another jab that felt a lot like drowning. And though she had grown exhausted of crying, she felt like that was the only way to make the pain go away. "I—"

"Sōsuke picks suitable victims," she continued, fixated on her work. "He picked two idiots that will obey no matter how broken he's left them."

Hinamori heard herself sob. She clasped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her distress, but she felt it in the air and energy pulsing in it, bitter and stagnant.

"I was very much like you once—easily swayed and lied to," Kazuye finished. "Had I remained in Soul Society any longer, I'd undoubtedly be dead. Sōsuke would have sacrificed me. But the difference between you and I is that I didn't take it to heart. I wasn't in love with Sōsuke."

Hinamori cried into her hands and she didn't know why she felt so much pain. Everything just hurt.

* * *

**Extra Corner**:

* Akaho is talking about the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire led by Hernán Cortés. There was a collaboration between the Spanish conquistadors and Tlaxcalan warriors (the latter had issues with the Aztecs because they had sacrificed a number of their people so it is assumed that they agreed to fight with the Spanish as an excuse to start a civil war). Religion is theorized to have played a large role because of the sheer amount of people sacrificed to their gods, so their numbers had dwindled. Cortés and his army had been welcomed until Cortés decided to shove the Roman Catholic religion down the Aztecs' throat, hoping to replace their Aztec gods. Eventually, the Aztec revolted and drove Cortés from the city and that's when the Spanish made contact with the Tlaxcala and create an alliance. After many cities had been conquered, the emperor Cuauhtémoc, surrendered.

* Now that the history lesson is over, here's a bit of fiction of my own creation. The _Nahualli, _the spiritually inclined that remained, believed the fall of the Aztec empire was a sign from their gods to change their ways and so human sacrifice and the shedding of blood had been abolished. The five nahualli families left the continent and traveled to the Middle East where they lived peaceful lives. For that reason, Nahualli use Arabic surnames to refer to their family lines.

* On the subject of names, every Nahualli was born with an Aztec name, though it is custom for it to remain a secret between the person itself and their parents who helped picked it out. (This subject will be elaborated on later.) Their settling in the Middle East led to them choosing a second name, which is what they're usually called. (This pertains to the first reason, so bear with the mystery for now.) The Nahualli in Soul Society adopted a Japanese name to blend in. Depending on the family, the number of names they have can range from three to seven. (For example, Kazuye has her Aztec name—_blank_, her second name—_Katarzyna Sayegh_, and her Japanese name—_Hisame Kazuye_.) If you're curious, Iyo's second name is _Anka Sayegh_. Akiho goes by _Maja Qasim_.

* There were other subjects I wanted to explain, but the history lesson ran a bit long. Expect explanations on Nahualli children using Iyo as an example.

* As always, thank you for reading. :)


	4. Blind Dimension

**xl**: Oh, it's so nice to post something!

This chapter to some extent is one of those chapters that connect two separate pieces together. Not much in plot, but a lot on Hinamori's feelings.

As always, thank you to **KawaiiRiniBunny** for the review. :)

Also, the extra corner ran a bit longer than expected. The chapter itself is a little over 3.5k words, so yeah.

* * *

**Nahualli **| Blind Dimension

Iyo carefully lined a narrow glass of water to the edge of the table, two inches away from the one to its right. She wanted to prove her mother wrong about turning plain water into orange juice because Kazuye made an off comment on how Iyo's weaknesses in spellwork branched from the simplest forms of magic. Iyo saw one solution to remedy the insult and that was making her mother acknowledge that she had been wrong, but the young girl's irritation hadn't stopped there. She challenged Kazuye to do the same.

"I haven't seen you preform real spellwork since you got on your spinning wheel a thousand years ago," Iyo had said, strongly and with a hint of humor. "You probably can't change water into orange juice."

Kazuye stared at her in serene silence before inclining her head in acceptance.

Iyo finished lining up the last glass so two parallel lines of ten dotted the surface of the table. Kazuye stood opposite of her daughter with her arms folded over her chest, expressionless.

"Akaho-san, you do the honors," Iyo said, not taking her eyes off her drinking glasses.

Akaho stood beside Hinamori several feet away from the table to better observe the challenge. Iyo had named them judges to taste-test the juice once it had been conjured.

"On three," Akaho started, seemingly disappointed in their behavior. "One…two…three!"

Iyo tapped the rim of each glass and the water within spun quickly; decreasing in speed once the clear liquid started adopting the orangey tint of freshly squeezed juice. The smell of oranges permeated the room like a blast of cold spray, but as soon as the scent started to spread, Hinamori felt her stomach lurch and watched Iyo's concentration fall away into a look of complete utter failure.

"No!" she cried in frustration, hands fisted and waving.

Akaho's nose wrinkled in distaste. "You used too much spiritual energy."

"I measured it right!" Iyo complained. "I swear I did!"

Hinamori glimpsed at Kazuye as Iyo continued voicing her distraught and caught her as she ran an open hand in a straight line over all ten of her glasses. The water within shivered into bright and deep reds and mixtures of yellow and orange until the clear liquids had given away to an assortment of freshly brewed juices. She could smell the fruits and berries in the air, faint but steadily overtaking the stagnant scent of rotten oranges left behind by Iyo's failed spellwork.

"There is no excuse as to why you failed such a simple experiment," Kazuye started, green eyes flickering to her daughter, silencing her. "You were using the water as the base of your spellwork and only needed to add a drop of spiritual energy—_a drop_. How do you expect me to teach you higher-level spellwork if you can't understand the properties of using your base elements?"

Iyo flushed a bright red, thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"You need to exercise better control," advised Kazuye. "Within you is a reserve with the capabilities of sustaining enough spiritual energy to fill three large cities and it is a common for you to mistake a drop for a quarter. The more you practice, the better control you assert, the more control you have, the longer range you have." She sighed, dispelling all seriousness encasing her. "I wasn't a prodigy either. It took me years of instruction and even then, when I found the Qasim, I was no stronger than a child."

Kazuye walked around the table and took Iyo by the chin, lifting her face to meet hers. "No more challenges, okay?"

Iyo's lower lip trembled. She hugged her mother, crying incoherent words.

Hinamori felt herself smile as Kazuye led Iyo away to pick up her bag. _They're sweet._

Akaho gestured the lieutenant through the antique shop and into the empty street outside.

The bustling area was unbelievably peaceful, a town without Hollow. There were many things that were suspiciously strange about the town that could only be explained by believing the Nahualli were powerful enough to conjure. Hinamori often considered that if Kazuye was powerful enough to erect a barrier around Iyo's room, she could create another at a larger-scale. She theorized that Kazuye might have been the reason as to why Hollow were practically non-existent there, that there was a gargantuan, undetectable barrier surrounding the perimeter keeping them out.

Had her abilities made her a standout for Aizen? Or did he name her for a different reason?

Hinamori didn't want to think about it. "How long have you know, Hisame-san?" she asked, opting for a mental subject change.

"We met before Iyo's birth," Akaho replied. "I found her during hunting season. She was starving, helpless and fearful for a child she could have been hallucinating about because she was far from coherent." She locked eyes with Hinamori, whose heart pounded nervously. "The Aizen Sōsuke she serves will succeed if she returns to his side. Knowing this, I opposed the idea of your stay because she left Soul Society in such a pitiful state, but there is something there that she deserves and I want her to attain it."

There was a twist of something rotten inside her stomach. She disturbed their peaceful lives for an incredibly selfish request, for someone that didn't deserve her effort. But as terrible as she felt, she was drawn to whatever connection Aizen had shared with Kazuye.

"Does he plan to use her?" Hinamori asked hesitantly.

"No, he does not use her. They indulge in trades—eye for an eye, blood for blood."

Akaho silenced herself the rest of the waiting period before Kazuye and Iyo stepped out of the antique store. Kazuye set down the large box she carried out and pulled it open. Inside, Hinamori could see the edges of the clay model she had seen on the first night she arrived to the shop.

The snap of wood drew her attention back to the corner shop and her heart stopped. The once spruced up antique shop looked no different than the rest of the barred up establishments on the streets with torn drapes covered in mold and wide walls with pealing wallpaper. If she peered in through the window, she could see the absence of its many paintings and marble statues. The glass counter full of sparkling gems where she first lay eyes on Hisame Kazuye was nothing but molded carpet covered in shards of glass.

If there was a way to describe the state of it, Hinamori would say that its life had been taken.

Hinamori searched Akaho's face for answers and it didn't take long before she realized that whatever type of magic had animated the shop—turned it into a comfortable home and a source of income—had been dispelled.

A terrible sense of dread twisted inside her because of Akaho's words. If Kazuye returned to Aizen's side, he would inevitably accomplish what he didn't do the first time and whatever peace Kazuye found here those hundreds of years ago would disappear. Whatever she had run away from might be waiting for her in Soul Society upon her return and Hinamori knew, no matter what was said or proven, that she would regret bringing that letter to her.

She already regretted it, more than she was ready to admit.

"Oh," Iyo said, peering into the cardboard box. She pointed at the clay model of the antique shop. "So is this the real house?"

"Look at it closely," said Kazuye, reaching out to touch the side of Iyo's face with her knuckles. "It is simply what it is." She smiled. "Could you help me carry it?"

Iyo picked up the cardboard box without much effort and Akaho led them into a street of familiar and unfamiliar faces, of people who once greeted them openly and now walked past them as if they were nothing but strangers. Hinamori gauged for a reaction from any of the three, but they were silent and expressionless. How many towns had they left before this? How many acquaintances did they leave behind?

More importantly, what reason did they have to leave? And where would they go now?

Hinamori endured the quiet walk to the town's outskirts where land was bountiful and the grasses were greener. Iyo set the box on the ground and seated herself beside it, exhausted.

"I know you were born in the seventeenth century, but you know humanity did invent public transportation that could have easily brought us out here, no problem." Iyo spotted the bus stop a half mile from where they were standing. "Look, there's the bus stop."

Akaho held a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun, looking down the road as a wide bus peeked out of the corner approaching its first stop. "And that looks like the bus."

"Do you see that, mama? Do you see it? That's called a bus!"

"Ah yes," Kazuye started, full of sarcasm, patiently braiding her unruly blond curls over her shoulder. "But to ride a bus one needs something called money and one pays the same amount per customer _and _the last time I checked, we were living in a house made of clay."

Iyo looked over her shoulder, eyebrows knitted. "What about the antique shop? You've had it for fourteen years."

"Tell me, Iyo, have you ever seen me make a sale?" Kazuye challenged.

"You sound awfully proud of yourself," Akaho commented, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Hinamori saw customers walk in and out of the antique shop, but whether she sold anything or not was a complete mystery. It seemed pointless to rack her brain over it with Kazuye's confession.

Kazuye shrugged. "I never assumed I would make a profit. I just wanted to own a shop."

"Have we ever had money?" Iyo demanded.

"No," Akaho answered immediately. "Your mother is a horrible salesperson."

"How lovely it is to have such expectations of a person," sighed Kazuye, knotting a ribbon through her hair.

"What does it feel like to know that your daughter has finally recognized you for the useless woman you really are?" Akaho's eyes flickered to the blond witch minutely before she strode away, unabashed by her disrespectful comment.

"I honestly don't understand why you're so angry," huffed Kazuye, stomping after her with an exaggerated wave of her arms.

"Reasoning with you is like talking to a brick wall," Akaho accused. "You are one stupid woman!"

"Stupidity is subjective."

Iyo looked at Hinamori with a pout. "Well, I can't say I'm shocked. Mama abuses her power for everything, but I'm curious where Akaho-san gets the money for groceries."

"I've seen her do readings for people," Hinamori answered, amazed that she actually had something to say about it. The red-haired witch had taken advantage of the arrival of a caravan to offer her services as a psychic. She let Hinamori accompany her and sit as she tended to a number of skeptics and believers. Akaho proved that she ran a serious business when she reiterated everything Hinamori went through to become the lieutenant she was today. "She's very accurate."

"Has she done a Blood Reading for you?"

Hinamori shook her head, observing Akaho and Kazuye arguing at the end of the street. "Should we stop them?"

"They always argue like an old married couple, they'll get tired eventually and go back to normal," she said dismissively. She smiled. "So has she done one for you?"

Hinamori shook her head.

"You should ask her to do one for you, she's never been wrong."

"Have you had one?"

"Mama says I'm too young. Do you think so?"

"Ah, I think it might be too big a burden to know the things Akaho-san sees at your age. It's good to be young and be able to do anything without expecting the things await in the future." Hinamori smiled down at the girl, and then glanced back at the older women trudging back to them still exchanging well-thought out insults. "It looks like they're coming back."

"I'm dropping the barrier surrounding the area," Kazuye announced, stepping up in front of them. "Once that happens, I suggest you draw your zanpakutō and you, Iyo, listen and play close attention to your surroundings."

"So there is a barrier?" asked Hinamori, amazed. "Constantly?"

"You noticed?"

"No." Hinamori shook her head. "I assumed."

"Yes, always," Kazuye answered. "Nahualli are different that most other supernatural beings in the sense that we are human and our special abilities lie in holding large quantities of spiritual energy, of course there is a drawback." She observed the sway of tall grass faced with the strong pull of wind, seeing a world invisible to everyone else. "It is impossible to put a lid on it, no matter how strong a witch may be or how many years she's had living in this world. We are magnets to evil and the quickest way for the common Hollow to evolve. Consuming a trainee like Iyo could help a couple dozen new Hollows reach Gillian stage. She alone could feed a Hollow to Adjuchas."

"But Hollow evolve through cannibalization," Iyo corrected, smug in her knowledge of this.

"Yes, of course, but that is a far stupider explanation than we have time for." Kazuye stepped away from the forefront and gestured for Iyo to get on her feet. "Hinamori-san, if you will."

Hinamori searched her pockets for her gikon, but felt Kazuye's cold fingertips against her forehead and a harsh jerk forward. She heard the thump of her gigai as it hit the ground, felt the flow of her shihakusho's sleeves and the weight of her zanpakutō at her side. She blinked up at Kazuye's smiling face, astonished.

"I thought you might need some help."

She flushed, unable to prevent her heart from beating as fast as it was. "T-Thank you, Hisame-san."

Unconsciously, Hinamori followed Kazuye's saunter back to Iyo's side. There was an unexplainable draw to that woman that made her think of Aizen and many other thoughts that held her emotions in a vise-like grip. If power had not brought him to her, had he naturally been drawn to her?

Akaho moved in front of them, stood with her legs apart as she fastened a pair of maroon leather, fingerless gloves over each hand. Each subtle movement she made brought on a shift in the spiritual energy surrounding her.

"I'm ready," she announced, dropping both arms to her sides. "Drop the barrier."

Kazuye inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and the whole world fell away into silence. The moment could have lasted hours when in reality only a minute passed before the peaceful town was filled with malevolent energy.

"That's a lot of Hollow," wowed Iyo, squinting in all directions.

Hinamori stood frozen, numb from the shock. The sky above their heads, surrounding the perimeter of the city was dotted in black. Hollow of varying shapes and sizes cornered them. There was no way the city could survive this sort of onslaught and she alone could only defeat a handful at a time as another group from reigning destruction.

The Hollows resonate cries rattled her eardrums, snapping her back into reality. Hundreds were upon them as soon as she remembered to breathe and with that same intake of air, she called out Tobiume and sprang into action.

She took down dozens upon dozens of Hollow, the trio of witches lost somewhere in the fray, but for every one Hollow she purified another five emerged from the sky to take its place. She sustained wounds that seared her skin and bruises that throbbed painfully with every move she made. She fought on, hearing the cries of many others falling behind her.

Tempted to witness the battle prowess of the Nahualli, Hinamori stole a glance over her shoulder to the flurry of Akaho's bright hair and the elegance in her technique. She fought without noticeable magic and broke white mask after white mask with the sheer strength in both her hands and feet. She worked speedily, using a technique that looked a lot like shunpo.

Beyond her, working from the center of the grassy hill, stood Kazuye zipping through the air with a single hand, causing a dozen Hollow masks to burst into pieces on the other side of the city. She never suspected that sort of range in power, but neither did she expect to notice that the witches, like the shinigami, purified the Hollow.

Kazuye directed Iyo, her voice reached Hinamori for a split second.

"…you don't hold back…" she said strongly, "there are no measurements or calculations, you merely focus and envision a sword, a gale or a burst of fire rip through their masks."

Hinamori turned away in time to swing Tobiume's pointed form in the direction of another onslaught. The kidō-based attack hit only half of them, minor injuries. She shot one final look in Iyo's direction and saw her suck in deep breath as a number of Hollow closed in on her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Kazuye made no move to protect her…but then again, it was unnecessary. A burst of energy ripped through the air in all cardinal directions and took with it nearly half the remaining Hollow, leaving only the few able to predict its movements.

There was nothing to worry about, Iyo had the strength in her and Kazuye trusted it.

A wave of relief aided Hinamori through the remaining Hollow and without truly realizing, her heart and mind had come to terms with the undeniable truth. She had found solace among them, though her questions were plenty and thoughts of Aizen were frequent, she undoubtedly felt safe in this lively little city protected by a witch's barrier.

The worst of it all was knowing she was the harbinger of whatever escalated in Soul Society. The guilt was stronger than her desire to forget what happened here. She struggled with the dread of losing the few memories she made with the three witches. She found it difficult to accept that she won't remember the conversations she had with Kazuye about Aizen and how she had once been in her position. There was somebody else in the world with a similar experience, though the circumstances were different; Kazuye confided in her something Hinamori felt she might never be able to do.

These exchanges were important, she tried telling herself, and she shouldn't have to forget them.

_But if I don't,_ she thought watching the last Hollow disappear, _what will I do knowing I helped release __**him**__?_

Hinamori rejoined the group, battered and bloody, but most of all exhausted. The aches she sustained were minor. She could move with little to no pain. It was the scrapes that made it seem as though she had been stomped over by rampaging bulls.

Akaho removed the leather gloves to expose reddened, torn knuckles and burn marks running up to her forearms, exposing the tender pink muscle beneath.

Iyo yawned noisily, leaning into her mother's frame to stay afoot. The two were unhurt, but their eyes shone with fatigue. Hinamori could only imagine the amount of energy they used, specifically Kazuye who held up the barrier for years without once letting it drop.

She searched Kazuye's face for some form of direction.

"Contact your superiors," Kazuye started, dropping into a seat with Iyo. "The sudden influx of new residents should have already alerted them, but speak to them. Akaho-san, please, help her, I need to rest."

Akaho nodded obediently. "Yes."

Hinamori found her communicator and contacted Twelfth Division with a report. She thought her voice might betray her the minute she got through to one of the members of the division, but she sounded winded and exhausted. Behind her, Kazuye and Iyo had dropped to the ground unconscious, their skin burning new bruises and flesh wounds that looked to have been caused by terrible monsters.

Her heart beat harder and anxiety. She feared for them.

"**Lieutenant Hinamori!**" the shinigami shouted, voice full of concern. "**Your area registered over a hundred Hollow, we're sending reinforcements!**"

"N-No," she stammered, struggling to strengthen her tone. "The Hollow have all been cleared in the area—" Akaho's lips were moving and Hinamori found herself reading the unspoken words. She reiterated them quickly. "I had help. A trio of Nahualli appeared at the scene—t-they helped, but two of them are terribly wounded. They need medical attention."

There was complete silence on the other end of the call, but soon a new voice emerged—a peculiar one with a dark, curious tone that could only belong to Twelfth Division's captain. "**What family?**"

"Family?" The question caught her by surprise, but she composed herself at the sound of Captain Kurotsuchi's disgruntled mumble. "Sayegh."

"**Hmm, royalty,**" he remarked after a pregnant pause. "**Preparations will be made. Open a Senkaimon.**"

She heard him shout orders in the background. "_**You, Fourth Division now.**_"

Hinamori looked at Akaho. It was too sudden. She wasn't ready.

"She thought it best not to say anything," Akaho explained, as if she read her mind. "There are times one needs to face ones greatest fears to find their path."

She took those words to heart, glanced once more at Kazuye and Iyo's bodies, and with her zanpakutō, opened a Senkaimon.

* * *

**Extra Corner**: No actual history lessons.

Nahualli Children: I promised I deliver, so let's dive right into the baby-making business.

* I doubt I'll have room in the series to properly explain the whole conception process because Nahualli women aren't normal in the making babies department in a sense than any man can get them knocked up. There is always that off-chance that no man can get them pregnant no matter how many times they try. Here's why.

Because power runs prominently in the female gender, the women are required to find strong men (spiritually strong) to procreate, thus ensuring the birth of, basically, witches - children with power. However, even if a match produces a child, there is a possibility that the child won't have Nahualli abilites, though they would still be spiritually inclined.

So, the only way the woman can have kids is by finding the ideal mate, it's almost never a love connection and almost always something arranged using divination.

So just take in all of that information and multiply the importance of finding an idealy mate by a hundred for special Nahualli, the Shaman.

Kazuye comes from a long line of Shamans. Her mother, grandmother and great-grandparents were Shaman before her.

Looking for an ideal partner for Shamans is quite possibly the worst, so it's common for most Shaman to remain unwed and childless for their whole lives, eventually turning to priestesshood (of sorts).

As you can see, Kazuye's great-grandparents were lucky. Both were Shamans so it was an automatic connection and it's what has made the Sayegh line strong, in the sense that it's produced frequent Shamans. Most Shamans are thousand-year-old hags with other families because Shaman production is scarce. (I apologize for making a joke of this.)

Kazuye's grandmother married someone great enough to produce a Shaman, Kazuno, Kazuye's mother. Besides Kazuye, Kazuno had two sons, neither of them possess Nahualli abilities, so they're non-Nahualli. (This could also pertain to the fact that they're male. A male Nahualli is a commodity and almost always a Shaman.) So Kazuye's birth continued the Shaman line in her family and I would love to delve further into that, but it's plot for the next couple chapters.

I don't think I mentioned it, but Iyo is a Sayegh Shaman as well. I think I might have just referred to her as Kazuye's successor. But yes, she's also the product of a strong union.

So, in short, the union has to be strong, it's totally based on power, or else the woman will not get pregant.

* Iyo being thirteen but hints point that she was born two hundred years ago when Kazuye left Soul Society. What's up with that?

It's the truth. Nahualli babies are special. I already explained how they feed on their parents' spiritual energy to remain balanced and healthy and it has a lot to do with it.

Well, there are instances in which a mother can decide to basically turn their spawn into pure energy and store him/her in a special orb where their age is frozen but they continue to feed off their mother's/father's spiritual energy (depending on who wears the orb or if they take turns). It's kinda like a deep sleep in a different dimension for the kid, no harm done. In fact, providing all the extra energy is said to make them much stronger.

**That's all for today, I'll see you soon with the first Soul Society installment!**


	5. Soul Society I

**xl**: I ended up splitting this chapter in half and lopped the second half to the next chapter because, well, I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually getting to see the world through Kazuye's eyes. After five chapter, our protagonist finally gets under the limelight. That's been fun to write.

This chapter, like the last, is pretty basic and shorter.

_Thank you _to **KawaiiRiniBunny**, **kiss2lips** and **Aries01xD** for the reviews!

* * *

**Nahualli **| Soul Society I

Members of Fourth Division were on standby upon reaching Soul Society.

Hinamori was daunted by the strangely curious stares. She didn't quite understand the reason for them, but remembered how Captain Kurotsuchi referred to the Sayegh line as royalty and imagined it had some relevance to the attention. She failed to seek an explanation from Akaho, who merely explained the state of Kazuye and Iyo's wounds. She promised to explain it all properly, but that they fine despite being covered in cuts and bruises.

Time was short and they only had a tiny window of opportunity that would ensure their safe acceptance back into Seireitei. Hinamori shifted Iyo's weight on her back, the girl was lighter than she had expected, and gauged Akaho's expression. The witch took in the sight of tall white walls and white buildings in earnest, amazed by the ancient Japanese architecture encasing the surrounding area. She had probably only heard stories of Soul Society, so it seemed to have taken her by surprise.

Members of the Relief Center approached them with the intention of providing first aid if possible, but Hinamori remembered Akaho's last instructions. She stepped forward, heart hammering in her chest—reminding her of every lie to leave her tongue since the operation started. She offered Iyo to a pair of young men with a gurney.

"She's sustained the worst wounds," she said in a single breath. With a nod, the they took her away.

"Lieutenant Hinamori."

Hinamori's blood ran cold as the division's captain, Unohana Retsu, step into her periphery with her own lieutenant following up behind her. She bowed in greeting, fretting that she oozed every telltale sign for lying.

"Yes, Captain Unohana," she chirped nervously.

Unohana zeroed in on Akaho who had Kazuye's unconscious body slumped over her shoulder like a sack of flour. "According to Captain Kurotsuchi, you said these were Sayegh witches," she reminded, drops of fascination lingered in her tone. "Did they offer you an introduction?"

"Fujitani Akaho," answered Akaho evenly. "I'm a witch, but not a Sayegh. The girl is called Hisame Iyo and this woman here—" She gestured with the jut of her chin, "this is Kazuye, her mother."

If Unohana had been the least bit surprised by the Kazuye's name, she made no indication. She merely turned to her lieutenant and Yamada Hanataro. "Isane-san, please inform the Captain-Commander that we've located the last Sayegh Shaman, and Hanataro-san, please find Captain Kyoraku and direct him to Fourth Division."

"Yes, captain." The two piped in unison. Kotetsu Isane, lieutenant of Fourth Division, shunpoed out of sight in the direction of First Division. Hanataro moved back, venturing past the accumulating crowd and a cloud of skepticism before disappearing towards Eighth Division.

Unohana gave orders for Kazuye to be left in her care and asked one of her shinigami to locate Katō Sumire. The name rung no bells with Hinamori, but she didn't have time to question it when the senior captain requested she also accompany her to Fourth Division to have her own wounds healed. She had failed to recognize them before the aches and pains were pointed out to her.

Hinamori followed obediently, taking note of Akaho's refusal to relinquish her hold of Kazuye to those who asked. The Fourth Division's captain allowed the redhead witch do as she wished; it hardly mattered who did the carrying so long as she was taken directly to the Relief Center.

.

.

It took several minutes for someone to patch her up from when she arrived to Fourth Division. Hinamori had been close enough to hear the orders shouted over Iyo's unconscious form in the room across the hall and the murmurs escaping a pair of nurses in the corridor when they glimpsed at the burns over Akaho's forearms. Kazuye was being treated in a peaceful setting with only Unohana in the room, the captain having asked no one to disturb her.

Hinamori joined Akaho. "You should have those wounds looked at."

"That will be unnecessary," she answered steadily, eyes focused on the closed door at the end of the hall. "I burned three ligaments. It is faster for my body to heal naturally than for it to undergo kidō treatment."

"Are you sure?" Hinamori persisted, finding her answer peculiar.

Akaho gave her a stubborn nod and Hinamori gave up. She found a seat in the wooden bench next to the redhead, and though she asked for her to sit, she remained standing. Hinamori liked Akaho's reluctance to dropping her guard. She was sworn to protect the Hisame girls, looked attached to Kazuye, and in the worst-case scenario, Akaho wanted to be ready to prevent further harm.

"You never finished explaining how they sustained those wounds."

The thought had been playing in her head for as long as she had seen the two fall into seats, paling in their exhaustion. Iyo had rested her head against her mother, yawning widely, honey eyes tearing at the corners. She said nothing, only made herself comfortable at her mother's side like a cat climbing onto its owners lap for warmth.

Purplish black contusions surfaced across Kazuye's neck as she stared at the two blearily, requesting the Senkaimon to be opened. She fell to the ground after Iyo had and in the blink of an eye, they were covered in aches—tears along the skin sprouting blood that looked like their seams had come apart and horrible looking bruises along their sallow skin.

"Iyo suffered the result of her laziness—years of lessons and training had been offered to her, but she not once listened. She preferred the outdoors and its humans," Akaho elaborated. "She is unlike her mother in the sense that she seeks serenity and perhaps that role suits her, but she is not meant for that. She is of the same blood as the mother that bore her, power in her veins—Sayegh Shaman. Her injury will be a painful lesson, but a lesson learned.

"As for Kazuye—that barrier stood eleven years strong and when she dropped it, she called the energy back and all the damage it had taken throughout that length of time, smothered with Hollow energy it now spreads through her body like poison. If that female captain can purify her energy, she will wake in hours, but if she cannot, she will sleep until she has purified herself. Sayegh witches are difficult to kill, their shaman are harder. You don't need to worry for either."

"Do you fear they're unsafe here?" asked Hinamori, watching Akaho's jaw clench in confirmation. "Nobody will hurt them. You know that, don't you?"

"It is not the nobodies that will be doing the harming, it will be every person she left behind the day she died."

Akaho averted her eyes from the door to the other end of the hall. The sound of scattered footsteps reached Hinamori's ears as a number of shinigami stepped aside to give way to a tan-skinned woman with flowing black hair tugged into a high ponytail and a sharp golden stare. She strode across the hall, walking with squared shoulders and easiness foreign to Hinamori. She turned straight into Iyo's room as instructed by the woman guiding her and as her ponytail swung, cascading down her lower back, Hinamori saw a similarly intricate tattoo on the nape of her neck that reminded her of Akaho's ink work.

"The mark of a witch," Akaho murmured, having seen the tattoo herself. "An Akram Shaman."

"Another shaman? Just like Hisame-san?"

"Yes, but she is of the healing type."

"Healing type? And Hisame-san?"

"Kazuye and Iyo hail from a family of vast knowledge, if the Nahualli are synonymous with the blue blood—the _tlahtoque_ [**1**]—of our ancestry then the Sayegh are descendants of kings—_tlahtoanime _[**2**]." Akaho faced Hinamori, a steeled look in her eyes full of devotion and respect for the Sayegh. "Families have healers—_curanderas_ [**3**]—the Akram Shaman is one, but Sayegh is not a healing family, they are of destruction, of kings and war, of power."

Hinamori opened her mouth, mesmerized by the history and culture of this practically ignored faction of spiritually inclined peoples, but the sound of her captain's familiar voice drew her attention from Akaho. She found him turning into the hallway with Eight Division's captain, Kyoraku Shunsui, to his right, both curious about the sudden buzz around Soul Society. Rumors spread quickly so it wasn't a surprise to hear them murmuring something about witches and the Akram Shaman that cut in front of them earlier.

Hirako Shinji spotted her, looking relieved. "There ya are."

Hinamori excused herself from Akaho's side and stepped up to the two captains, bowing in greeting. She quickly explained her disheveled state had to do with the Hollow she encountered in the Human World and quickly introduced the two to Akaho, who acknowledged them with a curt, respectful nod and a lot of silence. Her recount glued Hirako Shinji and Kyoraku Shunsui in place, something turned in the atmosphere—the air was scarce.

In the minutes that dragged on, Hinamori noticed Akaho stealing glances in Kyoraku's direction, a suspicious gleam in her eye. She thought it strange, but didn't question it, feeling anxious herself. The two captains continued talking about their curiosities when Unohana emerged from the room at the end of the hall. She acknowledged the captains' presence, but first turned her attention to Akaho.

"Everything will be fine," Unohana explained. "I helped dispel most the malignant energy she's acquired, so she should be fine in a few hours. You can see her now if you wish."

"Thank you." Akaho went straight for Kazuye's room, disappearing behind the door.

Unohana finally looked to Kyoraku, not minding Hirako or Hinamori's presence when she said, "I just finished tending to Hisame Kazuye's wounds," she announced and it was her confirmation they needed.

A silence like no other unfurled between them, looks of complete shock met with the raven-haired woman's placid mask as she went on, "Hinamori-san encountered a large quantity of Hollow and had it not been for the assistance of the Qasim girl, Kazuye-san and her daughter, she might not have escaped with few wounds."

Kyoraku and Hirako drowned in the quiet, having heard it reiterated in Unohana's terms made the difference in the world. Hinamori sat in silence, gauging their reactions. Her captain seemed to have absorbed the information, his face inscrutable, but Kyoraku looked speechless—no words to describe what that could have meant for him.

Hirako stepped over to Hinamori, about to gesture to her when Unohana continued. "Hisame Kazuye is alive," she confirmed to Kyoraku's dubious look. "There is no denying it."

It took a deep breath to compose Kyoraku while her captain remained, to some extent, in denial. He probably wouldn't believe it until he saw her himself or talked it out of Hinamori, so he settled with the unknown.

"Have you told Yama-jii?" Kyoraku asked gravely.

Unohana gave a curt nod. "I sent Isane-san as soon as I saw her," she said. "It won't be long before he arrives."

Again, Kyoraku looked troubled. "I see," he intoned, walking past the Fourth Division captain to the door at the end of the hall. "I'll stay here until he arrives."

Unohana gave him the okay.

The conversation only helped increase Hinamori's sense of dread. What did it mean to have a captain like Kyoraku Shunsui waiting for the Captain Commander to show up over the reappearance of a person they thought had been dead? Was something bad about to happen? Would she be doing the right thing by leaving them alone as Akaho instructed before entering the Senkaimon?

She couldn't shake the worry, even after she had obediently followed her own captain out of Fourth Division in dead silence.

"I was surprised too," she admitted, feeling awkward about shattering the quiet.

"It jus' makes no sense," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "I saw her dead. Kyoraku-san had her, he confirmed it, she was as dead as dead is. An' now she's back. An' ya saw her?"

He glimpsed at her. She nodded., trying to think of something interesting to say, but instead blurted, "She's prettier in person."

He laughed. "Did ya talk long?"

"No, not long," she answered, dropping her gaze. "She only helped me."

. .

[ **1** ] _tlahtoque_ - nobleman/woman, basically someone of higher birth.

[ **2** ] _tlahtoanime_ - the plural form of kings.

[ **3** ] _curandera _- shaman healer in Latin America, not Nahuatl, that use herbs, waters, mud to help cure ailments. Pronounced "Kuu-RAN-de-rah."

* I'll get back to you on pronunciations for the words listed once I find my book to make sure they're spelled correctly. I'll fix it if they aren't.

* Note, curandera isn't the proper name for the profession, it's just Akaho's way of saying something in a derogatory form.

* * *

**Extra Corner**:

* I talked to you about making babies in the previous chapter. In the next one, I plan to elaborate on the Sayegh and Akram lineages. Today is a general lesson, a deeper reiteration of the first chapter.

* There are 7 Nahualli lineages in existence: **Sayegh**, Akram, Rais, Zahir, **Mzali**, Nasr and Qasim.

- - Lineages in bold are royal lineages, descendents of previous emperors of the Aztec race as Akaho described. It is expected of the other lineages to function under their rule (the absolute rule of an emperor or in their case, empress. Men are scarce, more so in the able ruler category).

- - The Nahualli were split in two because there were two royal lineages with clashing ideals, which made it that much easier for the Sayegh and its allies to side with the shinigami when approached. Considering they were people of peace willing to cooperate with Soul Society (even go as far as to lend themselves to aid in any cause) they were given free reign and thus follow a somewhat different set of rules.

As many lineages, the Sayegh are ruled by their Shaman and given the fact that the Sayegh (with the exception of non-Nahualli like the Tsutano brothers) were practically extinct when Kazuye decided to die. The power passed onto the next lineage in line. But since Kazuye's alive, guess who's in power again?

- - Anyhow, every lineage specializes in something. Sayegh are known for destructive "Power," the interpretation is up for grabs, and generally all Akram are "Healers." I didn't elaborate on Akaho and probably never will because she doesn't talk about herself, the Qasim are known for their "Physical." I'd call the Zahir conspiracy theorists, but they're actually known for "Intelligence" and finally, the Rais are more spiritually attuned to the forces around them and can predict outcomes, I'd call them "Soothsayers" but I feel there's a better word for it. I also made an off comment on how there are Mzali that do Blood Readings, you can consider that a branch of the Rais, and expect more details on the Human World lineages later.

**And that's that!**

If I promised to elaborate on something and haven't, please remind me. I already forgot.

If you want me to elaborate on something I haven't already, you can tell me. If there's no room for it in the series itself, I'll make a "Extra Corner" out of it.

Also, Kazuye's chapter means Aizen thoughts and Aizen thoughts could lead to Aizen memories and Aizen memories tend to be awesome in the sexy department! O:

The preview to the next chapter is up on my livejournal, there's a link on my profile. All you need to do is scroll down to the first Nahualli entry.

Thank you for reading!


	6. Soul Society II

**xl**: Happy New Years!

Well, this was longer than I anticipated...

The good part is that it's tightly packed with pretty pivotal information for the chapters the last two chapters. There are some curious revelations, but not too much. I'm really just setting the stage for something bigger.

There's no '**Extra Corner**' this chapter. I think I've written about things I needed to explain, so now, I'll open this up to the readers. Is there anything within the Nahualli community you think needs explanation and I haven't done it? I always say if I don't explain it that means the story will, but sometimes I don't write things down, so I forget. This was also way too long to make longer.

I hope you enjoy this chapter because I am pretty ashamed of it.

Many thanks to **BookLover2401** for reviewing the previous chapter. :) Also, you can find a preview to the next chapter at the usual haunt, better yet, check my profile once you finish.

* * *

**Nahualli **| Soul Society II

_"Your blood is strong." Kano clutched at Kazuye's small wrists. She was once a woman of ethereal beauty and eternal youth, forever frozen, but pending death had consumed her unrivaled looks. Kano had thinned, her face had shrunken in, and her golden hair had lost its sunlight and the green tint in her eye faded into a musky hazel, without their light. Despite it all, her grip was iron and her eyes steady. "This blood is strong but everyone will try to tell you otherwise. You will be branded, you will be called horrible names, you will be shunned, but never should you doubt that you were placed in this world for a reason. Live it, learn it, and die once you're a seven-thousand-year-old hag."_

_Kazuye fought back tears, struggling to keep her face unreadable she remained silent._

_"Are you listening to me?" snapped Kano._

_Kazuye nodded, biting her lip. It was the only thing she could do to keep it all in, to sit there in front of the only person to love her tell her that she was as strong as the blood in her veins to ease her final concerns. If her grandmother trusted that she could take care of herself, despite the hardships awaiting her, then her death could be peaceful._

_She promised to cry later and swallowed the emotion down. It stung. "I'm listening."_

_Kano eased into a slouch, her bones creaked, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. But as soon as happiness lit her eyes, death dimmed them, taking her as silent as a shadow. Her body fell sideways, clothes sagging against her boney frame, and her eyes remained wide open—pools of honey._

_Kazuye leaned forward. The stab in her chest was that of an open wound, a pain she never wanted to endure. "Nantli?" The hands clutching her wrist had gone soft and broken away like brittle stone. The tears were a flood and her voice a broken sob as she begged this woman, the only mother in her life to come back. "Nantli."_

Kazuye opened her eyes to the high ceiling with its darkened corners, the smell of lemon and pine that smothered the metallic scent of day old blood, and the spiritual energy that pulsed through the walls—a mantle wrapping its protective arms around every shinigami in the building. This was Fourth Division.

Behind closed eyes, Kazuye watched pale smoke form into shapes as she concentrated on the familiar spiritual energy of the division's captain. Captain Unohana Retsu stood somewhere on the opposite side of the building observing the sway of greenery outdoors, a woman of serene but powerful demeanor with thick black plaited down her front and blue eyes. At the entrance of the room was another woman, bearing the lieutenant's badge marked by a single bellflower. She was silver-haired with a kind face and looked as if she easily dwarfed anyone with her stature.

A mere lieutenant she didn't recognize. However, two centuries had passed. She was disadvantaged.

"Did you have the same dream? About your grandmother?"

Kazuye's eyes flicker to the man standing at the foot of her bed, rugged faced and covered in facial hair was Kyoraku Shunsui and his familiar grin. "Look at you," she taunted. "It hasn't been an hour and you're already asking me inappropriate questions."

"You're even prettier now."

She seated herself; strands of hair fanned across her face. She pushed them out of her eyes as she left the bed.

"Yama-jii will be here soon."

Kazuye stalled at the entrance and snorted humorlessly. "What a waste."

She found Akaho sitting on a wooden bench out in the hallway staring listlessly at a bento. Upon laying eyes on her, Akaho jumped out of her seat, her name rolling off her tongue like a chirp. Behind her, Kyoraku persisted, willing to follow her everywhere until the Captain Commander arrived, which had been a sure outcome during the planning stages. The difference would be made after she spoke with the old man about buried hatchets and live nightmares she had acknowledged, but it was redundant. She wanted to speak of her grandmother less than he did, but he would bring her up and she could already imagine the spiel. She had no patience for it.

Akaho stared at Kyoraku suspiciously, though he took it as an invitation to hit on her. She cursed him savagely in their native tongue, words that would never translate to Japanese with all connotations intact.

"You can relax, Akaho," said Kazuye, taking notice of the Qasim's strained look. "I have already spoken to you about him."

She frowned in disapproval, but conceded to her orders. "Yes."

That was what she liked about Akaho. She was as devoted to her as the Mzali hags were to the gods, fulfilled her every whim, as infuriating as it was to her, and did things swiftly. Kazuye enjoyed people like Akaho, self-sufficient and easy to manage. They required little to no care and consideration, knowing exactly how to function according to the situation.

Kazuye found Iyo's room without direction. The connection she shared with her daughter was strong, a stream of light she could follow to the end of a pitch-black tunnel, but even that was a mediocre example.

She entered in silence, startling the Akram Shaman within.

Katō Sumire whipped around to face them, her long ponytail floundering, opening her mouth to demand they leave, but swallowed her words and the bile taste of them. She glimpsed at Iyo's slumbering face and back to Kazuye's searching for confirmation.

"I knew it," she accused, voice rasp. "It is impossible to kill a Sayegh."

"Don't sound so miserable, Sumire."

"You should be thanking me; I saved this child's life."

"There is no need; your husband knows my gratitude."

Kazuye grinned as Sumire shoved past her, pushing her into Kyoraku. Akaho watched in solemn silence.

"That's no good," Kyoraku berated gently. "She only asked for what was proper."

She shot him a pointed look and approached Iyo's bedside. She clasped her hand in her left and placed her right over her forehead, checking her health as best in her abilities. Sumire did an outstanding job fixing Iyo's wrongs, though she failed to wake the girl in the process, which could mean a series of things. Few she was keen to rule out, others she had not studied. She could only wait.

Kyoraku stood beside her. "A daughter," he said, beholding the girl. Disbelieving. "So it is true?"

Kazuye crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze. "Are you assuming she's yours?"

He locked eyes with her, darkening gray orbs. "Who else?"

"Perhaps, the other thousand men in my harem?" she answered, shrugging her shoulders.

He tensed, jaw locked.

It took everything in her power to withhold the laughter from raking her body with tremors. She leaned to kiss Iyo's forehead, it serving a long enough distraction to grasp at composure as she looked at him, continuing, "Two centuries have passed and the reality is that she is mine. I am her father and mother. And you will not ask this question of me again."

She whirled around to leave, to allow the girl to rest and find a closet somewhere to die of laughter. But she no sooner turned completely before the pull of the Captain Commander's spiritual energy dried the humor right out of her body and the sight of his ancient, surly face did nothing but put a dapper on her mood.

_Adapt, Kazuye. Adapt and you'll survive this._

Yamamoto Genryūsai looked at her no different than he had the day she last saw him, but to describe it would be difficult. It was not revulsion or prejudice. It felt like a mixture of uncompassionate pity and something stronger. In those cold, ancient eyes she held no authority in the Sayegh family for being the product of an illicit affair her mother decided had been the best idea in her life. That is until it came down to taking responsibility for her actions and thus, accepting the consequences. She was the illegitimate daughter of a whore and she had lived through the worst of it.

_Adapt. Now breathe._

She expelled the breath she had been holding, slowly so nobody would notice.

The Captain Commander found Iyo on the bed and it seemed everyone would be interested in how she came to be, which was all the better for her. She neither confirmed nor denied if Iyo had been born through the consummation of marriage or the sensuous adventure she embarked on upon realizing the Nahualli made it a law to have her married. She could be the product of pre-marriage or post-death, however anyone came around to see it she said nothing. She swore to keep her secret, buried deep in her very core where no light could reach it. Iyo had a father.

"She is mine," she told him.

He glimpsed at her. "What have you called her?"

"Iyo."

"Iyo?"

"Yes."

He grunted, changing the subject. "Why have you returned?"

"I didn't," she answered. A lie, of course. "This was a bit of a rushed incident. As soon as Iyo wakes, I'll be out of your hair—beard, whatever—but until then, I suppose I have no choice." She waved a hand towards Akaho. "The Qasim warrior is my bodyguard, she will stay with me."

The question playing on everyone's mind was why she would consider needing a bodyguard, but nobody asked it. Yamamoto had a dozen other queries to offer her, none that she would be too pleased answering, though she was never against listening to a person.

Listening was one of the things she was good at—hearing stories of a woeful, romantic nature or of destruction and carnage was something that she found indescribably entertaining. For that reason alone she had made a name for herself as Katarzyna Sayegh, the wish-granting sensation. Obviously, the mounting number of skeptics kept her from making a profit. Most entered her territory for confirmation and simple as it was to provide proof of magic, she gave them her word and nothing more. By then she had already acquired what she wanted: their stories. Reading a person was a rudimentary skill and she mastered it centuries ago. Non-special human were simple beings who wore their life energy like an open book, ready for any being capable to look deep into their lives. Humans had no knowledge of locks and if they did, she was an expert in unlocking them.

The first inquiry made was of her death and with a final glance towards Iyo, Kazuye announced it might be best to have the discussion elsewhere. Unconscious or not, Iyo was an eavesdropper.

Agreeing, the Captain Commander stepped away from the entrance to allow her passage.

She dismissed Akaho, ordering her to remain at Iyo's side. She witnessed her reluctance and raised her eyebrows, daring her to disobey. She didn't.

Kazuye was followed back to the room at the end of the hall. She was quick to seat herself on the bed as the door behind the two captains sealed and the interrogation began.

"Where are Kano's tomes?"

The old man wasted no time. Kazuye brushed the curls from her face, crossing one leg over the other. "I have lawful claim for the tomes," she answered, voice smooth. "Grandmother left them to me and that is where they will stay."

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed to mere slits, unsatisfied with her response.

No matter how he approached the question, her answer wouldn't change. Kano readied the books for her, bound the four together so they would never separate and asked her to keep them. The tomes were exactly what she needed to fulfill Aizen's grueling request because there were things she couldn't do without the assistance of written instruction.

"Fight me on it," she challenged. "Take this to the Akram hags. The tomes pass to the next _legitimate _Sayegh leader. Seeing as I am the last that remains, you shouldn't risk your chances of losing this bloodline."

"You have brothers with wives and children and the Sayegh blood runs through them as much as it does you," Yamamoto said roughly. "The line will continue seamlessly and it might once more produce a shaman to replace you. They are the rightful heirs to the tomes."

She growled, her hands grasping the sheets in her impatience. There was no reasoning with this old bastard.

Kyoraku looked at her exasperated, a mix between the realization that she was there in the flesh, which meant a myriad of other complications, and the fact that she hadn't changed in the attitude department.

"You were given a proper funeral here," started Yamamoto, the silence between his next subject meant a vow to see the Akram hags about her reluctance.

"Sorry I couldn't attend."

"Kazuye," stressed Kyoraku, drawing her attention. "The least you can do is offer us a reason. You were given your freedom."

That lit a fire in Kazuye that felt precarious. "Yes, he"—she jabbed her forefinger in Yamamoto's direction, disgusted by his guarded nature around her, and dragged it aside until she was pointing at him—"married me to you! Marriage is not freedom, it is an eternal commitment."

"He gave you honor by giving you his name," Yamamoto retorted, honor she never possessed. "You should be thankful."

The Nahualli shunned the ugly and it was custom to slay illegitimate children as punishment to their mothers—an example in the sickest form of them all. Her mother's affair had devastated her grandmother and ostracized her, stripped her of her rank, in a world where they were treated as royalty. If Soul Society itself had been scandalized, the Nahualli had been brutalized in the worst sense of the word, especially because her mother was the Sayegh Shaman at the time. It was expected of her to know better.

But by some twist of fate, Kazuye was born into her world, forever branded by mistakes that were not her own. She paid the price while her mother fled and learned to see the world in broken shapes and sharp colors, distorted and frightening.

Yamamoto Genryūsai thought he did her a service by offering her up for marriage and for a short while, he had convinced her. She had known Kyoraku Shunsui long enough to feel at ease with the match, but understood without an exchange of words that it was pity that he felt when he asked to marry her. Pity for having watched every scene of her pathetic life unfold, knowing she had done nothing wrong, as well as understanding that he had no say unless he was her spouse.

He saved her.

Again, the exasperatedly pleading look marred his features. "It was the only thing I could do for you."

"And I appreciated it, but—"

Kazuye silenced herself. She needed composure. She had overcome these things, this debilitating weakness. It took years of crying and screaming and kicking her feet. She was given guidance and the tools to grow up when she needed it the most, but—

_But_ Soul Society was full of residual energy and it brought back the memories, phantoms of the time she spent there. The floodgates had opened and she had no control over them.

She was bigger than this. She inhaled deeply, soothing the rage. Her grandmother's energy still lingered close and clung to her.

"That doesn't matter," she said, brushing it aside. "I don't feel the need to explain the reason for my leave. I am neither shinigami nor a legitimate heir to the Sayegh line, so when I ask to leave, it should not break any rules."

"No," Yamamoto said strongly. "But this is where you're safest."

"I have evaded the Mzali for two hundred years!"

"Your bloodline's enemies found you. You are safer here and here you will stay."

Kazuye was taken by surprise, but she didn't ask questions. It was strange for the Captain Commander to lie about the Mzali and the conflict they had in common with the Sayegh. Kazuye fled to the Human World knowing the dangers. If she were found by the Mzali hunters, her head would have been presented to their queen. The peace they shared had nothing to do with a signed agreement, but the fact that they live in separate worlds and neither Nahualli factions, as united as they once were, could step into the other.

Akaho had been uneasy for that very reason. She was safe, but her Qasim warrior could face judgment.

However, she needed a reason to stay. She owed Aizen a favor, one she was obligated to do, and she would release him from Muken if it meant not having to listen to another word that comes out of his stupid mouth.

"Do I have a choice?" she challenged.

"No."

"The Qasim is my condition," she said immediately. "She is sworn to me and dead to her lineage."

Yamamoto remained unfazed. "You will be surveillance by a shinigami at different intervals of the day until I deem you trustworthy."

"I can arrange that," Kyoraku offered.

The Captain Commander nodded in approval, still keeping his student's gaze. "She will return with you as soon as Captain Unohana deems her healthy." He directed his eyes to his face. "You know the witches' rules."

Kyoraku nodded.

"No," she said loudly, stopping the old shinigami in his tracks. "If you expect to keep me here, I want to return to _my _home. I want servants, as few as possible to manage the house. And I want to choose the shinigami."

Silence spread between them.

"That is all I ask for."

"The Akram won't welcome you," warned Kyoraku. "You're better off returning with—"

She steeled her gaze. "I do not fear the Akram."

Yamamoto exited with few words. "Do as you wish."

Kazuye was left alone with Kyoraku. "I know who I want."

"Let's hear it," he said easily.

"The nebbish girl"—she turned to him, green eyes glittering—"I want Hinamori Momo."

Kyoraku left her room doubtful that the arrangement could be done, but he promised to try. She heard him bid Akaho farewell as he passed and she reentered the room, face placid and eyes burning alight.

"You are different with them."

Kazuye sighed, reclining on her pillows for comfort. "Because I hate it here. The energy pulsing through the air, radiating from each shinigami—they carry memories into my head. They make me remember the past I pardoned. I cannot control my emotions in an environment that is constantly taunting me." Regardless, she smiled peacefully. "You feel it as well."

"The Akram healer could have killed your girl."

"If the Akram leader had no heart she would have. Do not blame her; she fears what my presence means."

"You are safe nowhere," Akaho said, darkening. "The Mzali wanted you dead in the World of Humans and here, the Akram won't bend to your authority. You have enemies everywhere, people that wish to harm you at every turn and with every decision." She found Kazuye staring absently at the window, as if she were listening but not comprehending. "Have you ever been safe?"

"Yes, when my grandmother lived."

Kano calmed the tempest brewing within the lineages. She stood strong, the only Sayegh Shaman to not face challenges from the others. And everything about Soul Society reminded her of those times.

"Do you still believe this is a good idea?"

Kazuye closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She shook her head. It was a stupid idea.

"Why do you risk so much for this man? He is where he belongs, paying the price for what he has done. You would be doing a disservice to the boy that put him there at risk for his own gift."

Seeing no way around the question, Kazuye confided in her the answer. "Because a long time ago, my mother promised him a favor—made him an oath, one she escaped upon my birth," she divulged. "Death claimed her long ago and the oath stands. I obey his word or the blood in my veins will boil and the flesh on my skin will rot. I cannot refuse it. Whether I find it unpleasant or not, I am bound to him by my mother's oath and until he, himself, tells me that he has been fulfilled, I cannot leave his side."

"Cannot or will not?" Akaho pressed, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

"Oh?" Kazuye grinned, taunting her. "Are you jealous?"

Akaho soured and strode out of the room.

* * *

Weakness subdued her to Captain Unohana's care for two more days. By the time Unohana deemed her ready for discharge, she had been healthier than ever and was pleased to find that the Captain Commander and Kyoraku stayed true to their agreement. She was given free reign of the property she left behind and had enough servants to maintain it (though she corrected them when they called her anything but Hisame), as well as Lieutenant Hinamori to ensure she didn't pose a threat against Soul Society or Akram rule.

Hinamori had been taken by surprise when the job was offered to her. Kazuye met her with a smile, asking if she had believed she had forgotten about the wish. Hinamori looked relieved, not so much by her comment but to see her healthy.

Kazuye observed her with curious eyes. _This girl, so full of light_…she thought, knowing why she had been an easy target for Aizen, but not how anyone would dare dim the brightness of her aura. She still sensed the dark presence there. Hinamori's broken heart was still healing, but she was strong. She could endure the pain and survive it just as easily as she could succumb to it and die of sadness. _But had she not already…?_

"Is something wrong, Hisame-san?" Hinamori asked, noticing the intensity of her stare.

Kazuye shook her head and felt her lips curve with a touch of sweetness. "No," she responded, looking up at the buildings cluttered around the winding path beneath her feet. She took in the sight, lying to herself as she considered it a beautiful sight. "I just thought how much I missed it here."

Reentering the home she would inhabit once more was like peering into a muddled future. It stood as sturdy as it had two centuries ago with its spacious, empty rooms and long dreadful corridors decorated in her grandmother's ancient carvings, the protective charm that no longer worked. She traveled the hallways remembering the days long past when she had run through them, breathless and flushed. She entered every sitting area and every bedroom that brought forth the fondest recollections of her grandmother. The only person she truly missed was Kano. The single regret she held was never listening to her words.

_"Your blood is strong." _

The words echoed in the empty hall awakening sadness she had long forgotten. She never understood the true meaning of her words, too concerned with death—so set on finding a cure. A cure for death. How awful that sounded now? But it had been beautiful once. She believed in nothing but the unproven rumor that death could be remedied.

Hinamori followed close behind, staring wondrously at the mansion. "Did you really live here?"

"Yes. Only me."

Iyo's padding footsteps rang behind them. "Mama, this place is so awesome!"

She pushed past her at the entrance with chubby hands and reached the center of the room to admire its size.

"Iyo-chan…?" Hinamori trailed off, staring at the girl wide-eyed and skeptical.

Iyo shrunk to half her original size and looked no older than four years old with her blond hair bouncing around her round face and large hazel eyes. It wasn't an unusual occurrence to Kazuye, but others without knowledge were bound to question it and it shouldn't be expected of her daughter to explain. She was horrible at it and she had only seen half the house.

"Iyo exhausted her spiritual energy in the fight with the Hollow and in helping herself reach consciousness faster," Kazuye explained, drawing the lieutenant's attention as Iyo rushed into the nearest open door. Iyo overheard one of the nurse's talking about her discharge and she didn't want to be left behind. "She's never exactly let me feed her my energy the normal way, so I made it possible for her to become a sort of sponge for my energy and sadly, she shrinks in the process. A rudimentary mistake on my part."

Hinamori nodded, understanding. "So you can't make it so she doesn't shrink?"

"I can," she answered. "But she only lets me coddle her as she is now. She's too adult for it when she isn't. Children." She shook her head with a wry smile. "They love you unconditionally, but eventually they reach an age where you can't even kiss them in public. And in time, she'll find someone to love and demand liberties I consider preposterous and consider me an embarrassment—"

"Stop it, you're scaring her," Akaho snapped, appearing behind her with furrowed brows. "Now, where is she?"

"Did a beeline, straight through there." Kazuye made a line across the room to the doorway.

Akaho followed her direction, stopping midway to glancing at her. "Iyo looks up to you too much to find you embarrassing. Now, annoying is a different story."

"That's not reassuring at all," Kazuye grumbled.

Hinamori giggled.

Kazuye shook her head and continued on her own tour. Iyo squealed with delight somewhere to her left, running back and forth between areas with Akaho rushing after her, pleading with the girl to slow down.

The two spent another couple of minutes exploring the indoors until Hinamori asked if there was a garden and Kazuye pardoned the patch of soil in a small backyard overflowing with weeds. A gravel path sat between the soil and a stretch of tall grass dotted in yellow wildflowers.

Kazuye crouched down before the soil, drawing her sleeves over her elbows and started pulling the weeds from the dirt.

"I did a much better job maintaining this, a shame nobody bothered with it," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Centuries ago, she tended a small vegetable garden for the sake of having extra ingredients for food. Kazuye learned to cook—horrible food—grow plants—of course she had cheated, else the plants would have never sprouted—and clean—though nothing ever looked as spotless as she wished—in order to survive her time home during special coursework in the Shinōreijutsuin.

It had been a miserable life—using her grandmother's example to teach herself right from wrong, ignoring the insults and vile expectations with the hope that there would be a silver lining, faced the ostracism from her own family, and strove to be as strong as expected of a legitimate Sayegh Shaman, knowing it wouldn't make the difference she envisioned. She developed iron skin to survive that, else she might have cared about the things they said.

And then she accidentally killed Enma. It was such a devastating realization that her sixteen-year-old brain could barely compute it.

"I didn't know you were married to Captain Kyoraku."

Kazuye felt the soil in her nails as she wrenched a weed from it and turned, her train of thought derailed. "Only for a month," she answered, feeling Hinamori's curiosity spike. "He's told me women everywhere wept when the news spread and ran to him for confirmation. He had such trouble turning them away after seeing their tears."

Hinamori laughed. "You don't believe that?"

"I saw no weeping women, if anything, his lieutenant looked skeptical." Partially. The woman accompanying him wore her skepticism as a mask while her mantle of energy swarmed listlessly, desiring a lie. "I am searching for a way to break the union without damning myself for all eternity. The worst would be for Iyo, poor girl."

"But she would still be regarded as a Kyoraku." Hinamori caught herself, nervously. "I learned a bit about marriages from your elder brother."

"Don't let him hear you say that," she commented, tossing another cluster of weeds to her side. She straightened her back, running the back of her hand over her forehead to push her hair out of her face. "But you understand that when a vow is made it's nearly impossible to destroy unless one was unfaithful or dead. Iyo can't be a Kyoraku."

Hinamori stared on, baffled.

Kazuye glanced over her shoulder. "I can't deny she is his daughter or not because that would jeopardize her. He can be, if that's what he wishes, but she's never had a father and she's inherited that nasty trait of mine in which it is unlikely she would be accepting of it. Iyo has been a Hisame her entire life, changing it would devastate her and it won't help the situation."

"And if she isn't?"

"Well, there was a human," she said wondrously, tapping her chin. She felt no shame in discussing her sexual escapades to a woman she felt kindred to after the similarities they shared when it came to Aizen. And she never had a friend before that wasn't female—Akaho didn't make the category for involvement issues—and she acknowledged that Hinamori Momo would be as close as she would get with the same gender. "Spiritually strong but not inclined that could have been the balance I needed to conceive. Reproduction for Nahualli is difficult, it's about equilibrium, spiritual strength, and a _mate—_someone eternally bound to you, your destined person. It's a ridiculous thing."

"How do you know who your destined person is?" Hinamori joined her on the other side of the soil, drawing her sleeves up to yank the weeds out. She was fascinated by the Nahualli and she didn't have to see her energy bounce around her to notice it.

"Not until you're pregnant," she said, making a face. "Of course that was before. With time, the Rais were employed to do readings for newly matured witches to ensure appropriate marriages were awaiting them in the future. It was a guardian's decision to discuss the marriage with the other family and set a reveal date and a date for the actual ceremony. Everyone remained ignorant because knowing would ruin the surprise. Some believed that fate might lead the destined two to meet and fall in love before they shouted, 'Surprise, you get to marry!' and they have bragging rights on finding each other before the union."

The lieutenant tilted her head up. "Did you know?"

"No. The Rais refused to do a reading for me and my guardian could curse them to hell and back but none of them budged."

"But you still found him and you married Captain Kyoraku."

Kazuye laughed, wishing she could see the lighter side of it as Hinamori had. "Every girl's dream, I suppose."

"We're you happy to find him?"

"Happy?" She arched an eyebrow, asking herself the same question with the same appreciation for honesty. "No. I was terribly nervous."

"Did he give you reason to be nervous?"

Kazuye shook her head, remembering every moment all too clearly. "No. He didn't."

"What scared you?"

"The fact that I needed to grow up."

She ended the conversation perfectly. If Hinamori's curiosity delved further, she might have said something she shouldn't have. She swore to carry the secret with her for Iyo's sake and her own, though hers bordered unnecessary. Iyo's prospective fathers weren't many, she had not broken her marriage with an affair, though she had had three lovers before it, all lined up nicely as sperm donors to Iyo's conception and truth be told, it was nobody's business.

Iyo never asked for a name, contented with the idea that to some extent her father had loved her mother even if only for a night. Though there were times Kazuye wanted to feel regret that her daughter never resembled him. The memory, the night, it lived in her head.

Hinamori stayed until after the last weed was pulled. She bid farewell to everyone in the house as the servants started filing in from the gate to start up on their cleaning and cooking duties.

"I'll be visiting your division soon and hope you'll take me around the others," Kazuye called, stopping the lieutenant halfway through the door. "Sadly, I've never been past First Division."

Hinamori smiled brightly, promising to show her whatever she wanted.

Seeing her gone, Kazuye felt it appropriate to think of Aizen. She had her plan; all she needed was that tour and her twenty boxes of white clay.

* * *

Kazuye planted seeds in the soil, cheating once more with an enchantment to make sure everything grew speedily and as lovely as a great farmer's crop. She took a scalding bath and scrubbed the dirt from her skin until the flesh was pink and aching. She stayed in the water until her body finished absorbing all the heat and entered the kitchen in a scant towel that scandalized the head cook and distracted the only man in there long enough for him to cut his finger. She ate a bowl of beef stew to replenish all the energy she gave up for Iyo's sake and asked to have dinner in her room alone.

She wanted to dig through her shoeboxes of clay and start the foundation of what needed to be done, but halfway through it all, she grew inevitably bored and called a squeaky voiced girl in to paint her nails. She never bothered to paint her nails, but today she would. For the sake of authority.

As soon as the girl finished her right hand, Akaho entered the room spreading her usual menacing energy. She looked furious once more and Kazuye couldn't be bothered with an observation.

"How do you like Soul Society?" she asked cheerily.

"It is quieter than the city."

"Wait until the festivals."

Akaho didn't waste a minute to get to the point. "I heard you speaking to Hinamori."

"Oh no," Kazuye feigned worry, drawing a hand over her mouth.

"Cut the theatrics," Akaho bit out. "You told me you had no idea who the father was!"

"Well, that'd make me a liar," she replied, sounding offended.

"You are a liar and I was a fool to think otherwise," Akaho accused. "You know nothing but lies."

"I know secret truths," remarked Kazuye, watching how hard the girl was trying not to eavesdrop. "Secret truths harm no one."

Akaho bristled, hands fisted over her clothes. "You are denying Iyo the right to know who her father is! She needs to know!"

"I have never denied Iyo anything," Kazuye drawled, eyeing the servant girl painting her nails a coral pink, daring her to listen. "I have given her freedom in exchange for accepting her duty as my successor, have showered her with materialistic goods—shelves upon shelves of books and enough clothes to fill up this room—and I have and will love her every day of our lives. I sacrificed the stability offered to me by my husband and to some extent, I imagined, for the first time in many years that I could be happy with a title to protect me."

The servant girl pulled away for Kazuye to see her perfectly pink nails. She gave her a curt nod and waved her away. The girl gathered her things quickly and shuffled out of the room. She returned her eyes to Akaho, blowing on her fingernails to dry the nail polish.

Akaho waited, knuckles blanched, for an answer to her question—_no, demand. _It took her by surprise to hear desperation and fury clinging to her smooth voice and only served as a reminder of the first and final demand the Qasim witch asked of her in a time so far back she had forgotten how much she had needed someone to ask her to stay. Akaho did, ordered her to remain at her side and promised to do everything in her power to please her. Kazuye had stared at her thrilled by the possibilities—_a live Qasim warrior at her beck and call?_ She felt powerful.

"I dreamt of Iyo in my arms and I promise you, the happiness I felt in that instant was insurmountable," Kazuye started. "I wanted nothing more in Soul Society than to raise that child as far from it. She was my daughter and I would love her endlessly, but as cruel as the Nahualli were to me here, worst they would be now that I had a weakness."

"You haven't answered my question," Akaho snarled, eyes burning.

"Iyo only needs to ask," Kazuye said calmly. "If there comes a day when she truly wishes to know who her father is, she is in her right to ask me."

"And you will answer?"

"Immediately." Kazuye rose from her seat, strode across the room to the squared window, and leaned forward. "Until that day comes, he will remain anonymous."

Akaho stormed out of the room, leaving behind scraps of negative energy that dampened the tranquil mood she set for her bedroom.

Kazuye rolled her eyes. Akaho was never this difficult to deal with—she obeyed, that was that. This started the moment she heard Aizen Sōsuke's name, from the first Blood Reading they shared alone and Akaho first predicted the outcome of this request. Akaho's hate towards him was almost instinctual, though they had only met once.

She waited for her fingernails to dry, cleaned her mess with the flick of a wrist and dropped into her futon.

Kazuye stared at her pink nails in the barely lit room, hours after Iyo burrowed herself in her bed in fear of sleeping alone without the "_patterns on the wall_." She had hugged her to her chest, promised her more patterns, and watched her fall asleep as she raked her fingers through her hair.

Kazuye willed herself to sleep and dreamt of Aizen, standing with her behind the girl's dormitories as she struggled to explain the dead shinigami on the floor. He had already told her to extend some courtesy by burning him, but she wailed in the midst of her distress that she didn't know how. And though his face had been a blank canvas before, his eyes shone with amusement.

She told the story a thousand times to Akaho's sisters, who found her hysteria hilarious. She never exaggerated it, but it sounded like she had and they appreciated the theatrics not knowing she was being honest. She would run her fingers down her face and say, "_And the tears were pouring from my eyes like a crashing waterfall and I had snot dripping from my nose. I didn't know left from right and it was as if the whole world was crashing down around me, the apocalypse had come and I swear I saw him and my heart stopped beating, just dead silence fell between us._"

The three girls rolled on the floor laughing, unable to contain themselves. Eventually, the three girls learned the story and told it over and over during family reunions and dinners and soon they started asking questions.

"_You said your heart stopped, was it love?_" the eldest asked, a hopeless romantic.

"_Heavens no_," Kazuye had cried in protest. "_He was so unattractive, not even close to my type_."

"_Oooh, what is your type?_" teased the youngest.

"_Redheads with big breasts and large asses,"_ laughed the middle child, pointing out Akaho who had gone as red as her hair.

"_Stop it!_" snapped the eldest. "_I want to know what your type is. Tall, dark and handsome or short, pale and albino._"

That had sent them all in a riot.

"_Blond,_" Kazuye answered over their laughter. "_Blond and strong and tall._"

The youngest eyed her suspiciously. "_I think you were in love with someone blond, strong and tall._" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "_Who was it, Kaz? Tell us about him. Tell us everything about him._"

One glance at Akaho and she shook her head. "_Not today._"

Kazuye woke halfway through the next dream of Aizen and cursed the lingering energy in Seireitei that provoked them. She only wanted a moment of peace, to rest and prepare for the hardest part without Aizen resurfacing in her mind, but the dream was hard to shake because she had kissed him. She had kissed him on two other occasions. She considered those accidents.

If this had been one of those accidents, she would have been ecstatic, but it wasn't. It was the reason she hated dreaming of past memories, they were random, sometimes they linked to another and went on endlessly until someone from the other side drew her out of that land. Everything was as vivid as sitting in front of a widescreen television in perfect quality, so real you could touch. It was almost like an out of body experience. She stood in the sidelines and watched as everything occurred, except in better angles and with a little extra.

Kazuye dreaded this happening when she entered Soul Society, so she resolved to limit thoughts of any men to lessen the possibility of having any dreams. But there she stood in the middle of Aizen's room, watching her teenage self lounging at the table across him as he enjoyed his tea. A single lantern glowed from the corner of the table, creating an orb of light that surrounded them but shadowed the rest of his room. The blackened, cloudy sky outside marked rainy season and the absence of the moon darkened the streets, herding most wayward shinigami back home where they belonged as those in patrol struggled to stay warm by blazing fires.

She watched the scene unfold in silence, arms crossed and deeply shamed not knowing when exactly she had fallen into a dream of that very memory. She was never one for voyeurism.

_"I slept with an Akram yesterday," Kazuye announced. "He was small. I couldn't feel it."_

_Aizen continued reading the book flattened against the table._

_Irritated, she continued, "He whined like a dog when he came. He ruined my clothes, but he promised to buy me new ones so I'll probably sleep with him again."_

_"Why?" he asked finally, meeting her eyes._

_"Because he's buying me new clothes," she remarked, pleased with herself. She wondered if that made him so uncomfortable he needed to stop her. "As thanks."_

_"Why?"_

_"He looked like he wanted to sleep with me."_

_"Did he now?"_

_"They always do," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "So I did it to enjoy it, but it's never as good as I thought it'd be. It either hurts or grosses me out and they're nice to look at too. That doesn't help though."_

_He stayed silent, eyeing her. His gaze stabbed straight through her, causing her discomfort. The emotion there was tangible, but not visible to her eyes. She grew frustrated._

_Kazuye frowned, judging him. "I can see the same in your eyes; you want to have sex too."_

_Aizen set aside his teacup, leaning forward on his propped up arm, eyes flashing beneath the flickering lantern between them. "Yes, you're right," he admitted, unabashed. "I desire you, Kaz, and I feel it is out of my control."_

_"Fine," she decided, though she doubted his words. He had impeccable control. "We can have sex. It makes no difference."_

_"You are being too hasty," he chided._

_"Do you want to or don't you?" she demanded, ready to abandon the table._

_"I do," he said, smiling. "I simply want you to desire me as well."_

_"I'm offering to have sex with you," she remarked, not understanding. "Isn't it enough that I am willing to go that far already? 'Sides, I'll just change my mind after and want nothing to do with you."_

_Aizen moved away from the table and patted his lap. "Come."_

_She looked petulant. "You want me to sit on your lap?"_

_"If you want to learn the pleasures you've been deprived of, you must learn to listen."_

_Kazuye pushed herself off the ground and sauntered to him. She was willing to resign to his will for a cheap price, that is if he was as good as he claimed. "How do you want me?"_

_"Just sit."_

_She obeyed, seating herself on his lap, legs folded at either side of him. They sat staring at one another, too close for comfort. Her cheeks burned with the slightest hint of embarrassment, but she hoped he failed to notice._

_"You plan to bore me, don't you?" she asked, exasperated._

_Aizen reach to her face. "I'll be treating you gently," he said with a secret smile. "Do you mind?"_

_"No."_

_His fingers grazed her left cheek, trailing up the jawbone. She waited uncomfortable, staring between them. She heard his clothes rustle and his breath against her chin._

_"Have you been kissed gently?" he whispered against her skin._

_She wished he hadn't. It made her strangely aware of his proximity._

_"Gently enough," she mumbled, face tinged pink._

_Aizen pushed her hair off her shoulders and took her face like one held porcelain. _

_"Look at me, Kaz," he said lowly, and she did. His eyes burned with intensity, half-hidden behind the glare of his glasses, and her heart picked up the pace. She never expected him to look at her that way, no one else had. They normally had a dumb look on their face as they fumbled about wondering where to start, as if they were trying too hard. She appreciated their efforts, but she at least wanted it to feel right. Aizen's focus was clear._

_She wanted that kiss and when it came, she rushed into it. He pressed his forehead against hers, drawing away, and shook his head. Her impatience humored him. He had better restraint than she ever would and liked to flaunt it._

_Aizen pressed his lips, firm and skillful, to hers and she felt that urge again. She reached to wrap her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss and parted her mouth, but he pulled away once more. _

_She whined. "I'm bored to death!"_

_He smiled against her cheek. "Close your eyes and be patient."_

_"This is making me want to beat you not eat you."_

_"We will get to eating later," he said jokingly. "You don't need to rush into this, Kaz. Let me kiss you."_

_Kazuye stuck her hand between his legs, feeling him for a second before he tugged her hand away. "Get hard and fuck me already. At this pace I'll turn into an old hag."_

_"Relax your body, enjoy yourself as I will," he suggested, resting his palms on her neck. "You can do that, can't you?"_

_"Yes, but—"_

_"Then we have nothing to worry about," he interrupted._

_"At least take off your glasses, they're getting in my way."_

_"Ah, I forgot about these," he said, removing them and setting them aside on the table._

_Aizen took her face in his palm and kissed her once more, delicately, slowly until their lips melted together into traces of desire. She felt her back straighten, the hair on the back of her neck rise, and her hands slide onto his shoulders, not knowing what to do with them, as he applied just enough pressure to send a tingling down her back and a surge of fire to her cheeks. _

_She hated imagining herself kissing Aizen, not even in a life or death situation. His handsomeness played no part in her swaying, he could be the most beautiful man in the world, but she would still be against it because he treated her differently. It wasn't the same different she was used to, ostracism was the norm around Soul Society, but he looked upon her with knowing eyes. She was a walking curse upon their perfect utopia. He thought her deserving of gentle kisses, love and pleasure whereas the others knew only death could save her. Of course, she was to never expect these things from him; he gave her a measure of what she needed and nothing more. A man like him couldn't love a woman. She saw it._

_Kazuye took a shuddering breath as he moved away with a smug grin on his face. She had to admit that that last kiss stirred her insides into mush. She didn't let it show in her expression, pursing her lips._

_"Is it time yet?" she asked, wishing he kissed the again. _

_She envisioned his tongue on hers and his hands on her ass as her grinded against her fully erect. She chided herself for going as far as she did, not knowing if he would be like the other experiences she shared with other men. What if he was only good at kissing and sucked at everything else? That wouldn't be impressive at all. She'd have half a mind to tell the whole world about it._

_"How do you expect to enjoy passion when you have such low expectations?" he returned._

_"I was under the impression that this would satisfy your desires so you would stop looking at me like exotic food." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not a piece of candy."_

_"Once won't be enough to mollify me," he said, wrapping a loose arm around her waist._

_"How many then?"_

_"I will let you decide."_

_She yelped when he pulled her against him. They were too close again, breathing the same air, feeling the same heat. She didn't mind staring at him from such short distance. His eyes were a lighter hue than she assumed, full of wisdom and ardent passion. Taking her would be all too simple, she read it on his face, and he sought to enjoy it._

_"I think you're boring me on purpose," she teased._

_"Or perhaps your impatience has turn to heat and you're desperate for touch," he told her, raking his fingers down her back. _

_She arched, pressing her chest against him. A gasp escaped her parted lips. Upon realizing, her stomach dropped and she shrunk in place, set on hiding her embarrassment from him._

_Aizen chuckled. "What an interesting reaction," he said. "Should we try this once more?"_

_Kazuye gulped down her insecurities and nodded. She cleared her mind and focused. She focused on the deep kiss he gave her, parting the seam of her lips with his tongue—she allowed him entrance. She tasted tea on his tongue, a bitter flavor that upset her taste buds. She hated tea of all types and flavors, whether partnered with sugar, milk or honey—she found reason to abhor the taste. Perhaps, it was the idea that most tea was enjoy hot and that it was instant. Nothing in life should be that easy. But the tangy mixture on his tongue titillated dormant desires she was sure she didn't possess._

_A kiss was all he did, but he had done it well enough to draw out a powerful reaction from her. She had nothing to compare the feeling to, only that her mouth was hot and wanting. He gave her everything she needed and more._

_Aizen took her by the hair and tugged her head back. Her throat rumbled in response, eyes flying close because the ache in her scalp felt indescribably delicious. Her toes curled and the jitters flitted down her body._

_He grinned against her flesh and pressed hot kisses along her jaw, soft and openmouthed. He trailed down to her neck and she remembered all those nights that she spent feeling someone else's tongue licking and suckling on her neck. She recalled a certain lackluster feeling accompanying it. She read it was supposed to feel good, but it never felt like anything until now and she wasn't sure whether her stomach was upset or if it was her body's way of responding. Maybe she had become the receptor for all the pleasure he was willing to provide._

_She took calming breaths, her heart beating a mile a minute, and tried to keep her eyes open to the darkened ceiling above._

_Aizen tugged her robe free from the obi and peeled the clothes off her body, exposing her back to the evening's rigid cold. She shuddered against him, wrapping her legs around him tightly. He looked up at her as if he were asking for permission to see what was already before him and glimpsed at the stretch of milky skin below. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing across her nipples. _

_She bit her lip. _Gods his hands are rough.

_"Beautiful," he muttered to himself. She caught hints of disbelief in his tone. "Beautiful."_

_She lifted his face to hers by the chin and pressed her lips to his. "Will you have me now?"_

_"Did you doubt I would?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow._

_"You've been boring me to death."_

_He slid his hands to her clothed hips, drawing her hard across his lap, against his stiff erection. "I wanted to savor you," he said lowly, his breath dancing across her naked breasts. "Every inch of your skin was to be mine for this one night so I would remember the smoothness of your flesh, the tasted of your mouth and the feel of your insides."_

_Kazuye smiled wickedly. She ran a hand from his neck to the split between his clothes, touching the hard masculine body beneath, taut and sinewy beneath her fingertips. She touched the top of the sash and gave it a tug. She didn't want to talk; she wanted him naked, inside her._

_He caught on and pulled his arms from his sleeves, shrugging the fabric off his shoulder. He wrapped strong arms around her waist and continued were he left off with an amused laugh. He kissed and nipped at her breasts sending feeling to every nerve on her body. He pushed her body flat against the tatami mats to bare her beauty to the fading glow of the lantern that tinted her skin a deep rosy color._

_And for the first time, they acquiesced. She could read his energy and flushed in embarrassment, to feel how he saw her and see the lust._

_Kazuye stared at him with pale green eyes, glazed in sexual glee, and her chest heaved, short of breath. He imagined the delight of seeing her disheveled beneath him in boundless fantasies where he depicted her differently and different she was. She was a young woman with small curves that dipped low at her waist and rounded at her hips, and her breasts were pink tipped and supple, a slight weight in his hands but beautifully plump. Beneath the layers of her robes lay better wonders, shapely legs and strong thighs. _

_Aizen crawled over her body, pushing apart her legs. His hair fell over his face, drawing shadows that cut across his sharp features. The light flickered as he pushed his hand between her legs. She shifted under him, over the wrinkled clothes at her back._

_He ran his fingers down her opening, a gentle rub. She draped her arms above her head, arching back to enjoy the flutter of her heart, swirl of her stomach and dampness in her sex. He leaned to her ear, taking the lobe in his mouth and whispered to her. "This is pleasure."_

_Kazuye's breath hitched as his fingers brushed her clitoris lightly. He rubbed her gently with the tips of his fingers in tiny circles with the smallest of pressure and her hips rocked against his touch, drawing the greatest want from it. _

_She writhed; the sensations raking her body were powerful, stealing away her breath. She couldn't stop the throes of passion from producing loud moans. Her insides started to clamp, a wealth of heat spread from the pit of her stomach to the rest of her body, and she was panting hard. Pleasure flitted through her, waves of overpowering sensations, before orgasm took her._

_She quivered in its aftermath._

_Aizen kissed her face, startling her. She blinked up at him blearily and sighed as he pushed the hair out of her face. "You seem exhausted."_

_"I feel exhausted," she admitted._

_He caressed her gently. "It is expected."_

_"But not enough to rest," she said lightly, twining her fingers behind his neck. She felt him hard against her. "I want to keep going. I want us to do it properly and I want you to prove that you can make me enjoy it just as much. Besides, I can feel your erection on my leg. Do you want me to take care of it?"_

_She parted her lips suggestively, running her tongue along the bottom one._

_"Not today," he said and returned his fingers to her slippery folds. "I only want these lips today."_

_Kazuye let him lift her lower body over his legs and felt him ease his erection inside of her. She took notice of every second, making a noise that sounded like a mixture between a moan and gasp. He filled her, thick and foreign inside her. She touched his shoulders, fingers curling. She needed balance and energy before she gave way to the darkness, but she couldn't think._

_Aizen looked troubled._

_"Something is wrong, isn't there?" she asked breathlessly, worried. "That's why nobody wants me?"_

_"No." He was short of breath. "No."_

_She smiled teasingly, rolling her hips against him. He tensed. "Oh, is that weakness in your—ahh!"_

_He silenced her with a deliberate stroke. She moaned. He left her empty and filled her once more and continued in a motion that could have brought her to her knees were she not already on her back._

_She brought him down to her and kissed his neck softly. "Kiss me," she whispered. "Kiss me, S__ō__suke."_

_His lips crashed over hers, his arms folded over her head as he pumped into her slow, relishing every stroke. His kiss was desperate for control and his tongue searched for hers. She obliged him, wishing to make the moment last longer. But she was weakening and in need to replenish her reserves. She had used too much spiritual energy that afternoon and more when she peered into his a few minutes ago. She took the liberty to feast on his. He had given her permission long ago, but she avoided doing so if she could find another. She didn't have a choice now._

_Absorbing his spiritual energy through skin contact, his weight pressing her down, his lips to hers, she was taking from him the powerful spiritual energy that set him apart from the rest. She wanted to drown in it—_so strong_. _

_She gasped against him, body shaking from the flow of power coursing through her now, and then she felt him burrowed deep inside her. She threw her head back, unable to stand it._

_He took her in every way possible—gentle and slow, rough and fast, powerful and skillful—and she climaxed twice before he reached his limit. He fisted his hand over her pale hair and rested head near hers when she felt the heat of his orgasm fill her insides._

_Aizen fell onto his back beside her, gleaming in sweat and soothing his breaths. She stared at the ceiling as the lantern flickered for the final time and went out. Only the sound of their breathing remained._

Kazuye jerked awake, shivering violently as she tossed the blanket off and stumbled to her feet. She couldn't stand straight and her breathing was erratic. She hated these vivid, voyeuristic dreams.

She entered the nearest bathroom clumsily, feeling the dampness between her legs. She eased her panting and pulled her pants down along with her underwear. She hated dreaming about sex because they left her with a craving only one man could appease and he was wasting away in Muken for being a fool.

She dropped down into a seat, gulped audibly, and ran a hand down her sex. There was only one way out of it. She closed her eyes and thought of him, of Aizen pushing apart her knees and kissing up her thighs as she worked circles around her clitoris. His hot mouth on her, tongue slipping between the folds as his fingers dug into her hips drawing her to him forcefully.

_Fantasize him all you want, he won't want you anymore_, a voice whispered at her ear. _He'll have another to satisfy him._

Whoever that someone else could be, Kazuye relished in the thought of snapping her neck and felt her body shudder in release.


	7. Soul Society III

**xl note**: I added one more chapter to this series because the length of each leading to the climax has been huge and I need to cut back. There's a possibility that this will end on the 10th chapter. I won't know until I finish the 8th chapter. Everything is shaping up nicely to my desired results, but I think the next chapter is the real stepping stone to the end.

That being said, I haven't written anything since the start of 2013 partly due to distractions, a job I now complain about, some meetings, and school. Mostly, I think I'm being lazy. If anything, I plan to finish this story before January ends, so everything else will be on pause. I can't think of any others right now.

Cross your fingers.

Thank you **BookLover2401** for reviewing the previous chapter.

Enjoy~

* * *

**Nahualli **| Soul Society III

It was her first conscious day in Soul Society and she felt cheated. She expected to find her mother in the morning with some form of idea to keep them busy throughout the day. She wanted to find Hinamori and ask for a tour around the place. She thought of all the people she was about to meet. She had an itinerary for the entire week and expected her mother to be on top of it all.

Instead, Iyo discovered her mother sleeping in the tub, pale as a ghost with dark rings under her eyes, the stench of alcohol emanating from her skin like a natural perfume.

She grimaced. _Shameless._

Iyo shook her awake ruthlessly, watching her eyes flutter open and body jolt in scare. She met her gaze, disoriented.

"I see you fit in your big clothes again," she said groggily.

"Who gave you the alcohol?" Iyo demanded, hands on her hips. Her stance was authoritative. "You promised not to drink until at least seventy-eight hours had passed. You promised."

Kazuye winced at the sound of her grating voice and sunk further into her dwelling. "Stop shouting, Iyo," she grumbled, pushing her hair behind her ears. "It's too early, you'll wake Akaho."

"It's afternoon!" Iyo shouted. Her mother's hands clamped over her ears. "Akaho's been awake! We've been looking for you everywhere! We thought something happened to you!"

"Have a little faith, Iyo," she eased, straightening her body against the wall, both hands on the sides of the tub. "I can take care of myself."

"Not drunk!"

Iyo sensed Akaho near and stepped out of the bathroom long enough to call her over.

Kazuye groaned.

Akaho stormed inside, cast one look in her direction and sighed. She looked as disappointed as Iyo felt. "Your eyes are red."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?"

"Oh, wicked nightmares indeed." She sounded sarcastic and shook her head.

"And you've decided to have a drink?"

"Never!" she said, offended.

Iyo's eyebrows furrowed. "You reek of alcohol!"

Kazuye sputtered, digging for excuses she didn't have before bowing her head to the accusations. "Fine, I drank. I had a couple bottles of alcohol to make sure I had a dreamless sleep. Happy?" she said, stumbling out of the tub in a sudden sweep of vertigo. "Now do me the favor of getting out while I take a bath."

The weight of Akaho's judging stare seemed to irritate her mother. "What?" she bit out, threading on her last nerves.

"It hasn't been long since you arrived here, yet that man is already torturing you," Akaho snarled, turning on her heel and leaving the bathroom as instantly as she arrived.

Iyo quirked an eyebrow, anger dissipating. "What? Does he have magical mind powers that work from the super prison?" she asked, amused. "That's incredible!"

"He doesn't! Heaven forbid."

Iyo shut the door behind her and scampered away to the kitchen to request a snack from the head cook, a matronly woman with a mean streak and graying hair. She treated her kindly that morning and welcomed her to appear if she was hungry, which she would be after waking in her childlike state.

She still felt weakened from exhausting her spiritual energy, though healed from the worst of it by an Akram Shaman who had called to her in the darkness to feed her energy that tasted of herbs and honey, but felt strong and rehabilitating. She appreciated the effort, especially because Kazuye was undergoing cleansing treatment since she only knew how to purify Hollow by absorbing their malignant energy into her body and slashing their masks with a gale so strong it cut like steel. Admittedly, she enjoyed her mother's energy above all others, even Akaho's whose aura pulsed with sheer physical strength. Her mother's was otherworldly, a feast of raw energy to its very core. It tasted like sweetened cherries and her mother never complained if she continued absorbing it even after she had finished healing. That was what she liked as well—it felt endless.

Her mother represented everything that she considered one should. She was the solid wall shielding her from dangers she feared. She understood from a young age that in her mother's presence, she would never fear because the Sayegh line was difficult to kill—revered immortals by some—and they were power. Akaho told her as a child that the Sayegh had not seen a witch as strong as her mother for several generations, but the reverence in her voice usually gave way to a disappointed tone.

_"For all the power the gods have given to her, they have matched it with sloth," _she had said so many times she lost count.

As powerful as she was, she was equally lazy. Thus, the entire Nahualli community could tremble in her overpowering presence, but she wouldn't budge to enforce her authority. She used her power for material gain, considered requests to satisfy her curiosity of humankind, and preferred using her abilities to spite others to humor herself.

In other words, her mother was not a role model for an immature witch.

Kazuye strode into the kitchen as the head cook place a long plate of meat skewers in front of Iyo. She took one and stuffed her mouth, taking a bottle of hot sauce and squirting it into her mouth. She chewed gleefully.

"Oh, you sinful woman you," Kazuye teased, eyeing the cook with a playful shake of her head. "I will bless you with gold if you want it for this food."

The head cook flushed in appreciation. "You're too kind, Hisame-sama."

Curiously, Iyo bit into the meat and her taste buds were instantly rewarded. It was grilled to perfection, lightly seasoned, and smothered in a sweetened sauce. She had tasted a thousand different dishes in her thirteen years, a connoisseur of drool-worthy kitchen concoctions, but she and her mother had struggled to find a chef with such culinary gifts…until today.

"I can die happy now," Iyo exhaled dreamily.

"We need more of these skewers here," Kazuye said immediately. "Keep making them until I tell you to stop. Tell me if you run out of ingredients."

The head cook was too eager to oblige, drowning in their flattery. "Right away."

Iyo and Kazuye shared an onslaught of skewers that eventually turned into an unintended feast that had the entire kitchen staff working to place hot plates before them while taking the empty ones to the piling dishwasher. If the staff had found their appetites endearing, they now feared they were insatiable, but after scarfing down three bowls of scalding soup and five plates of chicken over rice and vegetables, Iyo reached her limit. She sipped on her cold, carbonated soda and watched her mother bite into a stake hungrily, tearing it apart with juice dripping down her chin.

"Mama, what're we doing today?" Iyo asked, curious.

"Going to Fifth Division."

She perked up. "To visit Hinamori-san?"

"If you wish, I have something I need from its captain."

It never failed to amaze her how many people she was acquainted with, even after Akaho had gone into detail that captains stayed in their positions a long time and that it wasn't exactly strange for some to recognize her after a two hundred year absence. Iyo hadn't lived two hundred years, not in the flesh of course. She had been born in the nineteenth century, but she spent most of those years in her mother's pendant. When she asked why, her mother's answer was simple, _"Because protecting you that way was the only thing I was good at,"_ and she believed her, though that never stopped her from digging for secrets.

Her mother was good with secrets.

"Doesn't your head just want to explode sometimes?" Iyo wondered aloud, staring at her mother's profile. "With all your secrets?"

Kazuye glanced at her, a grin on her lips. "Never."

It was even a mystery to Iyo whether her mother had the ability to read minds, which in itself was impossible, even by Nahualli standards. Sometimes it seemed better to drop the subject all together.

.

.

Iyo dressed as she normally would, though everyone out there would be in black shinigami garb or traditional Japanese clothes. She had neither and imagined if she did, she'd prefer her shorts and oversized t-shirt combination. Also, her mother and Akaho looked unwilling to give up their clothes, though the former would rather die than stop wearing her usual attire. They must have cost the fortune they didn't have; else, her mother wouldn't have such a protective hold on them.

She shrugged. She couldn't picture Kazuye in Japanese clothes and for the past half hour, she'd been trying.

Kazuye stepped out, as refreshed as could be for a woman enduring the hangover of a lifetime. "Do you mind taking the long way?"

"Never!"

Joyfully, Iyo followed her mother's leave, eager to explore the wide white streets of Seireitei and to meet as many people as humanly possible.

As soon as they left their property, Iyo lurched forward to question every passing shinigami about the buildings around First Division and if they had looked hesitant to answer, one look in Kazuye's direction could have them spilling their deepest darkest secrets. Before leaving the division, Iyo had a chance meeting with its lieutenant, an older, tanned skin man with a hilarious mustache and stark-white hair. He was called Sasakibe Chōjirō. He regarded her kindly and addressed her mother with "-_sama_" and even invited them to join him for tea before stopping himself short, looking to Kazuye.

Kazuye shrugged, probably having sensed her eagerness. "I can always turn it to orange juice," she offered. "Just don't invite, Shunsui."

That comment made him laugh. "I won't invite him, but bring your Qasim companion too."

"I'll try, but she rarely listens."

The conversation came to a sudden close as Iyo had grown distracted by the heavy atmosphere of the place. Due to her mother's barriers, she had grown accustomed to an almost airy living without even the slightest hint of spiritual energy to sense, but Soul Society was full of it. Everyone clad in their black uniforms radiated it, each a different colored light in her eyes, in a world emblazoned with color. _Why would mama ever leave?_

Iyo bid farewell to the lieutenant, remembering to address him properly and carried on her merry way to the gate. Kazuye joined her in a flash and together, they stepped out into the first of many interconnected streets to serve as guides throughout Seireitei and all its divisions. Looking up to her mother expectantly, Iyo was given direction.

She listened and rushed on ahead, stopping every twenty feet to wait for her mother to catch up. She took those moments to observe her. Kazuye easily steered away from one wall to the next, running her hands across their surfaces with her eyebrows knit in deep concentration and raking her coral pink fingernails over the stone ground they walked in. She used the length between her forefinger and thumb to measure the stones and grasp the height of one wall. She stalled particularly long when streets broke into short alleys and stared at the occasional carved squares on the walls with their dangling lanterns hung above, memorizing them.

If she was measuring the walls and path in a street, it meant she was learning its properties. She used her hands to feel the density and her fingernails to sense vibrations. She measured with her fingers and easily calculated the width of the never-ending wall surrounding the division.

Once Kazuye joined her again, she peered down at her with a secret smile. "Something on your mind?"

"Who is that Shunsui person you mentioned?" she asked quickly, clearing her mind of other curious thoughts. As much as she wanted to know what her mother was planning to do with her numbers, Iyo didn't want her potential mind-reading powers to peer in there and know she was dying to ask something she probably shouldn't.

The smile on her face was never fading. "Would you rather I lie to you, tell you the truth, or give you a riddle?"

_Ooh, I love this game!_ "R-i-d-d-l-e! Riddle!"

Kazuye paused. "What is tall, reliable, and generically bread-winning?"

_That made no sense…_ Iyo frowned deeply, scrawny arms folded over her chest. "Anymore?"

"Drinks alcohol, hits on women, and—forget it, there he is."

"Wait, Nanao-chan~"

Iyo followed her mother's gaze to a prim woman in glasses, walking away from a tall male in captain's garb and a flowery kimono. The riddle answer clicked in her head as she brought a closed fist over her open palm. "A husband!"

"Bingo."

The woman called Nanao paused in front of them and inclined her head politely for Kazuye, greeting her as "Kyoraku-sama."

Iyo watched her mother's expression slacken in disapproval. "Gods no," she said instantly, voice strained. "That name is a penance—"

"That's a tad harsh," called the bearded man, stopping near her.

In Kazuye's silence, all eyes fell on her, burning with curiosity. Her mother enforced politeness, and she wouldn't let her down. She waved with an unfazed smile. "I'm Hisame Iyo, nice to meet you."

"Iyo-chan," said the captain, beholding her like a sparkling diamond. "How're you feeling?"

"Hungry," she answered instantly, then turned to her mother. "We can stop for food, no?"

"Yes, yes."

The bearded captain presented himself as Kyoraku Shunsui, revealing the already known fact that he was married to her mother, and then gestured to the glasses woman beside him, his lieutenant, Ise Nanao.

"Awesome!" she said, but the promise of food distracted her. "Mama let's find some food! I wanna eat something sweet like a—"

With the flick of her mother's finger, a cold popsicle appeared in her mouth, silencing her. She inaudibly uttered her thanks as she went down the rest of the street.

Before stepping away, Iyo heard her mother bid a unique farewell to the captain and his lieutenant. "Tonight, we're drawing straws to see who takes the blame for the affair that'll end our marriage."

"Promise not to cheat?" he asked, hopeful.

"No dice."

Kazuye joined Iyo, patting her head. "How's that one?"

"It's cherry," Iyo swooned, pulling the red popsicle from her mouth as they continued down the street. "It's soooo good, but I wouldn't have minded a coco-flavored chocolate-covered ice cream."

"Finish that one, then maybe I'll teach you how to do it."

Kazuye glanced over her shoulder, ensuring they were gone before she slowed her step and continued her measuring. That time, Iyo failed to pay attention as she found the entrance to Third Division and rushed to heckle the guards about their favorite foods.

When her mother caught up, she spoke to them as well, apologizing for her. Iyo didn't take offense, not everyone welcomed a stranger who enjoyed asking questions, but at the same time, not everyone knew that they were helping her with their answers. Just as her mother prided herself in collecting stories, Iyo did in having answers. She memorized them and never forgot them, which made recognizing people far easier because she'll always remember her question and their answer—like an image with caps on the bottom.

They were close to Fifth Division, so they parted ways with the guards to continue.

"Do I want to know what you've been doing with your numbers, mama?" Iyo succumbed to curiosity as soon as the crossed the threshold of the gigantic gate for Hinamori's division. A part of her squirmed with excitement. "Do you need my help? I can gather numbers too?"

"It's best you didn't know," Kazuye answered. She regarded her with sparkling eyes. "And you're already helping me."

"Am I?"

She gave a curt nod before turning away. "Look, it's Hinamori-san."

Iyo perked up, scanned the narrow street between towering buildings and spotted the dark-haired lieutenant hauling a stack of paperwork. "Hinamori-san!" she shouted in her excitement, waving her half-eaten popsicle over her head. "Hinamori-san!"

Hinamori gazed up, finding them and smiled in acknowledgement. She excused herself from the group of shinigami around her and started towards them.

"Mama, I'm going to meet up with her!"

"I'll find you once I'm finished. Stay close to Hinamori-san and give her my regards."

"Yup!"

* * *

Kazuye meandered through Fifth Division, recognizing foreign buildings and changes in the layout of the area. She approached them, hands curious to learn them and took as long as she needed before following Hirako Shinji's spiritual energy to the largest building in the whole division. She entered, earning strange glances as she invited herself further in without the need of assistance. That unnerved many people, but so had her presence. Many seemed to question why they preferred avoiding conversation with her and it was better that way. She came for one sole purpose and she needed it fulfilled before the end of the day or else her plan would go awry.

Magic needed to be flawless—no weakness. She lived far too long with the weakness of unrefined magic to know of its consequences and that she never wanted to experience it again. Besides, she didn't need to listen to Akaho's grating when she made one mistake; it was that poor woman who would physically retrieve Aizen from Muken in a not so conventional but smart way. Even Iyo, unknowing, was contributing to the freedom of a bastard who should sit there and rot the rest of his five-digit sentence. She probably wouldn't give two shits about it if not for the unmanned energy floating in Seireitei. She never asked to be keen in that matter, but she was and her grandmother thought it was the incorporeal crown on her head that should be taken seriously.

Kazuye wasn't built to take _anything_ seriously. She lived on whims and for the most part enjoyed an indolent life and the calm monotony of listening to stories and requests, granting only those she felt were worthy or had been entertaining enough to keep her rooted to the very thing she could not have. She wanted to indulge in sloth, play video games all day or watch soap operas without ever stopping or start couponing, but no—everyone somewhere, in lucidity or in dream or in memory, reminded her of the invisible crown that belonged to her by right of blood. So even if the Akram Shaman and her army of Akram hags, or relics as she rightfully named them, wanted to stand in the way of her making an ascension toward ultimate Nahualli authority, let them. She cared as much about their imaginary kingdom as she felt about divulging the identity of Iyo's father—_la shay _[**1**]_,_ zero-point-zero percent, _nada _[**2**], zilch, _atle_ [**3**].

But would she reveal her true intentions? Never. Not when her silence could lead to gossip storms and bad blood between the entire Nahualli community. Once they all had their feathers ruffled to the point the Rais with their soothsayer abilities wouldn't know what hit them. If they ever realized everything's been a game, she might have already laughed to death.

Kazuye entered Hirako Shinji's office to find it empty. The walls were kept barren to keep Hirako focused on work and that he took seriously. There was a single desk, not too large but big enough to hold several stacks of documents in need of revisions, signatures, and approval, and a wide, towering bookshelf that only held files borrowed from the division's own archive needed on hand and several books to pass the time between jobs. Off to the right was a single, long couch, wooden frame and fluffy cushions covered in retro pillows she recognized were part of Hirako's favorite aesthetic, before it a pair of squared tables pushed together and in the corner a bamboo plant with stalks half her height.

The office changed since the first time Hirako served and by the looks of the disorder here and there, he had yet to settle in.

She slid the door shut behind her and strode across the room to seat herself behind the desk. She had spent more of her teenage years in this office trying to find ways to unnerve Aizen than she did her in childhood when she complained to Hirako about the unfairness she received in the Shinōreijutsuin.

Hirako Shinji acted as her legal guardian of sorts. No Nahualli could be alone in their program and he had known her mother and grandmother long enough to volunteer himself before her schooling custody went to the witch that vowed to make her academic career a living hell. To her credit, the witch managed. It worked. Kazuye never received her reading because of something the witch had said and not a curse in Hirako's arsenal could convince the Rais to reconsider. She cried for hours because she never understood what she could have done wrong to deserve the treatment. These days, she realized she hadn't. They were older women furious at her mother for having that scandalous affair and her grandmother for accepting the offspring of the liaison instead of doing what was expected.

To be thirteen in that environment, she still wondered how she survived.

Kazuye leaned back, right arm stretched to the desk, drumming her fingers along the surface.

She was around fourteen when Enma happened, not the death, but when he flashed her a heart-melting smile. Her young heart throbbed at the sight of him and fluttered when he said her name. And when he kissed her for the first time, her chest burst. She might have fainted, but hell, she treasured the pressure of his lips for months after his death. She found others to kiss then, more men to siphon spiritual energy from that never quite satisfied her but as they said, _"beggars can't be choosers."_

Then she fell in love and shortly after, Aizen ruined everything with his Hollowfication experiments. It was the last time she saw Hirako, the last day she thought worth the waterworks and the final strike with her witchy community.

Rock bottom.

So, she was dropped from the Haminqui [**4**]program. The only person in the world she could confide in was Aizen, which was almost as depressing as the fact that he listened. Yamamoto decided to honor her grandmother by offering her hand in marriage and none of her half-brothers attempted to stop it (not that she blamed the youngest, he didn't know they were half-siblings and he probably doesn't now).

_Gods_. She remembered crying in this office more prominent than any other memories. Remembered just sitting in one of the four corners and crying alone, with Hirako sitting next to her in silence, with Ichimaru watching and asking Aizen what to do, with Tōsen trying to talk her into stopping, with Aizen ignoring her at his desk.

_Here_, she thought, seeing the phantoms of memory disappear in white swirls as she closed her eyes to a new film. _This is where he told me to dominate the others._

_"Last Sayegh Shaman, won't you show them who wears the crown?" he had asked, a quiet voice rendered in chilling emotion. "Tell them. You have a right. More so, if you marry."_

_"I don't want to marry Shunsui!" she had cried. "I don't want to be royalty or bark out orders! I just want to cry! I want to cry until my eyes fall out!"_

_"So dramatic," he'd responded playfully. "Take your birthright seriously. It is yours alone."_

_"You shut up! You don't have to marry a man seven times your age, so shut up! No thousand-year-old fiancé, no opinion!"_

_He sighed, tinged with exasperation. "For the strongest Nahualli in hundreds of generations to be an unmotivated laze…your people are doomed, Kaz."_

_"I don't care," she cried, sniffling louder. "I just want to be normal."_

_That seemed to upset him. "Why be normal? You were born with otherworldly strength, why give it up?"_

_"The Nahualli hate me. I'd rather be lazy than be a leader nobody respects!"_

_"Then make them respect you," he had answered immediately. "You have the means—the power. Do it."_

_She looked at him with tear-streaked cheeks and with a pain-stricken voice, she had uttered, "I can't."_

Kazuye recalled the look that flashed in his eyes, a silent understanding that her words were truth and perhaps, then, he mistook that as ignorance—ignorance to the wealth of power housed in a teenage girl's body. Had it been so hard to believe that she wasn't itching for revenge against those people?

Hirako entered his office, shouting at someone over his shoulder before noticing her behind his desk. "Oi, what're ya—?"

She smiled at him, leaning forward. "Afternoon, Hirako-san."

He composed himself quickly; sliding the door shut behind him, and strode to her. "That's way jus' too formal for us. I think yer death put you on first name basis."

She laughed, removing herself from his seat to let him take it. "I see gossips' kept you busy."

Hirako took his seat and she leaned against the desk. "They may not be witches, but they're still Nahualli and the news has been spreading like wildfire," he said comfortably. "The Akram hags are trying to find a way to get rid of ya, but the Captain Commander's ignored all their requests."

She pouted. "I'm almost sad," she said, wiping an invisible tear from her eye. "They never pay attention to me."

He guffawed. "The perks of being an outcast, eh?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely."

"So ya finally got over it all?" he asked seriously. "Everything that they did to you, what they caused?"

Kazuye shrugged. "I figured there were bigger things to worry about than what a couple four-thousand-year-old crones thought of me."

"Yer not well off with the opposition either, are ya?"

"I'll never be well off for anyone," she sighed. "Hiding has been the best option and its reaped many benefits, that is until that lieutenant of yours stumbled into my territory"—at his arched eyebrow, she thought to elaborate—"which I earned through a series of unnecessarily boring life details best saved for a rainy day, and she kinda ruined my barrier. You know how Hollow get around Nahualli without barriers."

"They go all flesh-eater on you lot," he said with a dire nod. "Saved a couple girls once."

"Look at you, saving orphaned witch girls left and right," she remarked teasingly.

"Shut it, they're father was dealing with a bigger one elsewhere. Couldn't risk it rushing head first for his litter."

"Don't call them a litter."

"Don't you reproduce in threes?"

"I don't!"

"Well, you don't!"

She huffed, arms crossed. "I wish I was that fertile!"

Hirako barked a laugh. "But you've already got yer girl."

"And you may never understand how hard it was to find a suitable mate."

That made him grin curiously. He leaned over the desk on his elbow, staring up at her. "I heard yer torturing Kyoraku 'bout it."

"I enjoy pretending I was man and woman, impregnated myself—the story itself is hilarious—waited the appropriate number of months and had Iyo. There was no male involved. I'm asexual." She continued at sight of his amusement. "I'm in the middle of writing the script to my PSA to go with it. Hope you all keep your ears open to the intercom, 'cause I'm not repeating myself."

Hirako's expression changed, sullen. "It's Aizen, ain't it?"

"Over my dead body," she said, insulted. "Why does everyone assume it's him?"

"A hunch," he replied. "'Sides, I heard ya spent lots of time together 'fore ya played possum."

"I didn't have a choice when he decided to leave me friendless in one of his experiments."

He frowned. "Ya know 'bout that."

"I ran in after the white goo started eating at your faces," she recalled. "Aizen locked me in a shed _after _hitting me with the back of his sword, but I got out in time to witness it."

"What the hell? Why didn't Urahara mention this?" he snapped. "Why didn't he bring ya with him?"

"Because apparently men like locking me in places," she fumed, looking away. "Granted, Kisuke did promise to come back."

"How long did you stay there?"

"It took Sōsuke three days to find me and I know how angry you must have been after you've woken up, so I broke his nose."

"Just his nose?"

"And an arm."

"Not too shabby."

"'Course I had to heal him before anyone noticed."

"You didn't?"

"No, I kidnapped Sumire and forced her to do it."

He patted her shoulder, gazing up at her as if proud of her actions and she felt a swell of embarrassment. Hirako had a way with delighting her. He never made her feel guilty, gave her a good pat on the back for most things her culture considered bad—he called mischievous. And she remembered how distraught she had been the last time she saw him, knowing that there was nothing she could do about it. She was the strongest witch in her generation and her power was useless to her when she needed it.

But that didn't matter anymore. Hirako looked fine. He even got his old position back and she heard a lot of nice things about him from Hinamori, along the lines of bonding over their Aizen miseries. She felt left out. She'd always wanted to join the Aizen-Ruined-Me-Somehow Club, but she didn't take offense since she was supposed to be dead.

"So why'd ya decide to be nice to 'im?"

"Apart from being friendless outcasts?" she asked, eyebrows arched. "I liked making him nervous. Well, trying." She shook her head. "Let's stop talking about him. He doesn't need any more attention than he gets in that cell of his. I bet he's a riot."

Hirako burst out laughing, slamming one hand over the table. "Fine, let's go out for a drink. Yer old enough now."

"I've been old enough ages ago!"

Kazuye straightened out as he rose from his seat and led the way to the door. He paused, facing her once more. "I'm still curious 'bout yer girl."

To sate his curiosity, knowing through experience how persistent he could be, she knew she had to answer. "He was human," she told him. "Dark-haired and brawny-armed and spiritually strong."

He grinned, sliding apart the door. "Good to know," he said, stepping out after her. "But she's yers; no doubt she'll be as strong as ya."

"She'll be stronger," she corrected, prideful. "I feel it."

"Let's hope she's not as lazy."

She nicked him in the shoulder, pushing past him.

Hirako pinpointed the nearest bar and she unconsciously took the lead. She decided to ask him questions about his reinstatement, which had been a big part of some pardon extended to them and that the others were allowed to come in and out of Soul Society as they wished, though there were few that preferred staying on the other side, mostly for luxuries sake. Soul Society bookstores didn't carry the latest Jump titles and there weren't any fast food places. She could imagine how that might pose a problem, especially without internet connection or functioning cellphones (that worked in both worlds) and a severe lack of television and soap operas. She hadn't had time to think about the worst aspects of their stay and now they were all she could think of.

Kazuye spotted Iyo in a small crowd of people, shinigami women that looked around her age but must be closer to a century, and Lieutenant Hinamori stood beside her. Iyo seemed to follow the conversation with ease and that settled something stirring in Kazuye's heart until the teenage girl tensed under the savage scrutiny of another. Whatever that girl said must have been harsh because Lieutenant Hinamori looked aghast.

She paused on the other side of the street.

"The one that insulted her is an Akram related to Sumire," Hirako explained, looking at her. "The rest are a Zahir. Do you plan to fetch her or should I call Hinamori over?"

"Neither."

She was waiting. Expecting. Praying. She was lost in a trance watching the scene unfold.

_Iyo is strong. _

Her heart hammered in her chest.

_She doesn't hurt easily._

Iyo smiled. She must have said something incredible because the girls were left astounded. She faced the lieutenant that looked disapprovingly to the girls, promising in a voice loud enough to reach them that they'd be reported to their superiors, and together they sped off in the opposite direction. Iyo laughed as if nothing had happened.

_Thank the gods, _she thought, reining in her heart. _She is nothing like me. _

Had Kazuye been in that situation, the insult would have hurt, but those girls would have hurt more.

She feared that in all of her years that Iyo being easy to laugh, she might be easy to cry if put in a complicated situation. This eased the stirring back into place, her emotions back into dormancy, and her eyes fell upon the non-Nahualli girls staring back at her expecting her wrath. A mother protected its child, especially with younglings like Iyo, not yet mature.

"Come on, Kaz, yer scaring them."

Kazuye flashed them an innocent smile and followed the captain the rest of the way.

"What did they say to her?"

Hirako shook his head. "She's dealt with it, no? Why d'ya need to know?"

"Because I know you heard and I need to know."

"Ya don't need ta do anything," he replied dismissively.

"I want to know," she admitted. "Not to do anything. I just want to know what they're telling her."

"That's she's the daughter of a harlot and a psychopath, 'course the words were colorful and they prolly called her names in yer tongue."

Kazuye snorted. "The harlot and the psychopath—_so cliché_," she said, unimpressed. "This has Sumire written all over it, figures she'd bring Aizen into this. If it spreads, I can already imagine what the Captain Commander is going to say about it."

He looked taken aback by her reaction. "Well, at least, ya might get that divorce without cheating Kyoraku at drawing straws."

"_Oooh_—that would be perfect. Maybe I should use Aizen's name in vain, not like they could do worse to me."

"The Akram will investigate."

"That's fine," she said dismissively. "Aizen relinquished his right to an opinion the second he staged his coup d'état."

.

.

Hirako slid the door behind him, his room shrouded in instant darkness. "So, where'd ya hide 'em?"

Kazuye felt her way to the closet, forbidding him from lighting up the room. She hooked her fingers through the handle and pushed it until she heard it clasp.

"Do you have anything on the floor?" she whispered, feeling around the neat arrangement of vinyl records inside a cardboard box on the first shelf.

"Nope," he answered, stepping across the room to meet her.

"Do you have anything made of glass?"

"Why dya need that?"

"A conduit."

"Can't you cast a simple spell without one?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then do it."

With a grunt, she waved her hand in a small circle, producing a glass orb. She tapped the exterior with her nail and it cast an orange light. She thrust it into Hirako's hand. "Hold this."

Kazuye dropped to her hands and knees, crawling in to the corner where the light still reached. She pushed hard against the floorboards, listening close, and smoothed her hands across them. She repeated the process a second time until she heard an audible creak.

"Here you are," she said quietly, eyes brimming in excitement.

"Who gave you the clever idea of hiding your family's biggest treasure in my closet under the floorboards?"

"Because this is the last place they'll look."

"This was Aizen's closet too," he said offhandedly.

"If there's anything Aizen hated, it was stupidity and I am an expert on it."

"Ya take a lot of pride on that, eh?"

"Oh yeah, anything to make him angry."

Kazuye pushed harder against a set of floorboards until they squealed in protest. She dug her nails in the creases and started forcing them out of place. She flinched, hearing something snap, and brought her forefinger up to reveal a chipped nail.

_Damnit. _"I broke a nail."

"Shame," Hirako remarked lazily, peering over her shoulder.

She huffed. She struggled to unfloor the wooden planks but eventually managed, setting three long pieces in a stack on the side. The light didn't pierce the pitch-black hole below.

Kazuye dug inside, fingers pressing against the hard surface below. She fumbled around; bending forward until her cheek was pressed to the floor and her arm was folded over the hole, scouring that end. Her fingers hit something leathery and inched forward, closer to the opening. She strained to reach, fingertips grasping the sleek surface before running across thick twine.

She exhaled deeply, resting for ten seconds. She reached for it once more, trying to slip her finger through the cord. She failed her first three attempts and slid closer, forcing her arm in more—

_Finally!_

She dragged the heavy tomes before the gaping hole and reached in with both arms to pull them out. They were four thick books covered in the ancient language, ordered by color—red, blue, green, and black—and bound together by a thick black cord.

"So what d'ya need those for?" Hirako asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Something I'll regret."

.

.

Iyo bade farewell to Fifth Division.

The sun's descent from the sky had dyed the sky a dozen warm colors. The winds picked up, whistling down the streets as she and her mother made their way back to their temporary home. Silence sprawled all around them, people looked upon them strangely—judging them as creatures that did not belong on their territory and Iyo familiarized with that when the Akram girl asked if she indeed was the daughter of a harlot and psychopath.

Apparently, a rumor had spread that her mother broke the vows she made to her husband to consort with a Muken prisoner accused of a coup d'état. Marriage vows in their culture were as sacred as the gods they worshiped, breaking them was considered an abomination. Iyo was said to have been the product of this, thus becoming an undesirable. Undesirable children were put to death, offered up as sacrifice before the union was irreparably broken and the women were branded—eternally cursed—to servitude.

"I feel your emotions, Iyo."

Iyo snapped out of her thoughts. She promised herself not to be affected by the insult she felt when the Akram girl claimed the rumor to be the truth. She laughed instead, saying she was happy to be alive with her harlot of a mother and took Hinamori away.

The lieutenant apologized for their behavior, but Iyo told her to think nothing of it. Iyo didn't care who her father was, but she felt strongly against the rumors sullying her mother's image.

"It's nothing," she replied, averting her gaze.

"I broke no vows with your conception," Kazuye said, as if reading her mind. "You were born of love."

"I know that."

"If that is so, why do you hurt?"

Iyo frowned. "They're saying terrible things about you."

"Nothing I haven't endured before," Kazuye admitted. "My mother broke her vow to her husband. I am what they think you are."

She didn't need validation.

"Is that why you left? Were they this cruel to you? Always?"

"Yes, but only when they weren't trying to remedy their mistake."

"What does that mean?"

"It meant killing me once." Kazuye looked over her shoulder, a smile on her lips. "Do not fret. Today they fear me, but because they do they have targeted you."

Iyo didn't believe the lightness in her mother's tone. To be feared by the people that once tried to kill her. To have run two centuries ago from a paradise—had that been the reason why? Had she known they would use her daughter as a vulnerability? Is that why she ran? She took the greatest risk in the world by setting foot in the Human World. The Mzali and Sayegh had no love lost for one another and the fearful Mzali empress prophesized that a Sayegh Shaman would take her crown. She believed this Sayegh Shaman was her mother.

Dozens upon dozens of assassins were sent to claim her life, but all failed. It was because the environment had been so harsh that Iyo had only lived thirteen human years. She waited until she was strong enough to cloak their whereabouts from the Mzali seers.

"I can take care of myself."

"You won't need to," Kazuye assured her. "With your growing reputation, nobody will dare hurt you."

Iyo snorted. "You mean because my dad's the psychopath?"

"Fascinating story, is it?"

She shrugged. "It could be worse."

At once, the two broke out into laughter and together, they giggled all the way home, ridiculing the rumors. At one point, Iyo had suggested they spread their own rumors and her mother clapped her over her back, saying, "If I ever had a doubt you were mine, I wouldn't now."

Iyo beamed and in an instant, they started their own baseless gossip, one that involved her being born from her mother's union to a tree. Kazuye threw her head back to laugh. "That'll be a pleasure to explain."

Akaho waited indoors for them, seeking explanations for their lengthy absence. Iyo took care of informing her of everything, but noticed the woman looked upon them with disapproval. Akaho didn't want her mother to release Aizen Sōsuke from his prison. Iyo viewed this no different from the mercenary work the Qasim undertook to keep themselves afloat. She also understood that her own grandmother made an oath to the man, which meant the vow could not be broken until fulfilled and if the witch who had sworn it died, her first Nahualli offspring was bound to the promise until it was completed. If her mother died before fulfilling the oath, Iyo would take her place. That's how strong a Nahualli's word was.

Akaho was overreacting, as always.

Dinner awaited them. Iyo ate as much as she could stomach before slinking away into her room to admire the old carvings on the walls. She picked the small room because it once belonged to her mother. Though it had been barren when she first entered, she could tell it was full of secrets. She liked its mystery.

She couldn't read the markings on the wall. The language was ancient, buried under centuries of cultural change. It existed only in those willing to preserve it. Her mother was fluent in it, but she never taught it. She believed the time for it had long passed—_"A dead language should be buried."_

The secrets behind the language were of the dangerous sort and long ago, her mother vowed never to bring darkness to her heart. She made her promise as well.

Iyo had been seven.

_Mother clasped her hands together, enveloped in warmth so pronounced it melted away the cold in her fingers. Winters hit hard in their tiny home, strong winds rattled their shutters and whistled stories in the night. She doubled on gloves, but her fingers would still grow cold. Only placing them near the hearth thawed away their frostiness, but she seldom did that. Her arms ached too quickly to savor the heat and she hated standing too close since she nearly burned her hair once._

_That instant had been the only time she felt warmth on her fingers. Clasped between her mother's slender, delicate hands she found a shield from the winters bent on taking her small fingers._

_Iyo met her mother's gaze, eyes a moss green—covered in a light gray sheen that drew the color of her irises, flecks of gold surrounded by green. "Mama? Is something wrong?"_

_Emotion filled her mother's eyes, her knuckles grazed the side of her face—a feathery touch. "My beautiful girl, how strong you have grown."_

_"Mama?"_

_"I dreamt of you," she started. "Nightly. I have dreamt of peace with you, of goodness."_

_Iyo remained silent, understanding little._

_"But I have also dreamt of darkness, of horrors and evil wishing to cling to you."_

_Iyo flinched involuntarily, emotion welling at the pit of her stomach._

_"Don't be scared, darling," she cooed. "I will faster die than let it claim you, so you must promise me not to relinquish your heart to it. Vow it."_

She vowed it.

Iyo heard sound to her right and crossed the room to open door upon door to reach her mother's bedroom. A dozen shoeboxes sat stacked around two short tables Kazuye had pushed together. In the center of them sat thick cardboard, emblazoned with ancient markings she recognized from the one that held her mother's most prized clay model—of their antique shop. A foundation had been set atop it, wide in circumference, nearly swallowing both tables whole.

Kazuye stepped out of the closet with three boxes, two jars carrying the same dried leaves, and the thread she made at her spinning wheel. She set it all down carefully, lifting her eyes in acknowledgment.

Iyo remembered how slowly her mother had walked along the long winding roads of Soul Society on their way to Fifth Division. She touched the walls and the ground, measuring width and height and density. She had given everything a number, memorized it and divided it by several others until she could figure it into her current work of art. A model of Seireitei.

"How long will this take?" Iyo asked curiously.

"As long as it needs to."

Iyo opened her mouth to quell her curiosity, but Akaho strode in. She entered the room brimming with tense emotion, brows drawn and hands clenched at her sides.

Kazuye met her gaze. "Akaho, you look alarmed."

"If you plan to succeed, you better have finished that model in the next two days—"

"That's insane," she said in disbelief. "You can't believe I'll finish by then."

"Any later and you will be thwarted."

Kazuye's eyes narrowed, easing back into composure. "Who?"

"Your bane."

Iyo watched her mother suck in a breath and discard her sculpting tools. She pushed her body out of her seat and reached into her closet for a change of clothes. She dressed out of her flowing skirt and shirt and pulled on a Japanese robe, dark blue in color and powdered with bone-like branches, and cinched it with a light sash. She drew a coat over her shoulders and brushed her hair from underneath it.

Her mother kept her emotions on check, always. She never succumbed to the weakness necessary to forget about the wall keeping them in, but Iyo felt a flare of something there. It happened so quickly she thought she might have imagined it.

Kazuye gave Akaho orders, mostly centered around keeping Iyo out of trouble. This meant Iyo wouldn't be allowed to leave the house under Akaho's vigilance, which used to be easy since she knew everything about her childhood town. This was different. She had only seen two divisions of thirteen and met less than twenty people in one day. She wanted to meet the rest of the population.

Kazuye crossed to the door.

Iyo perked up, moving away. "Mama?"

She paused. "Yes, Iyo."

"Will everything be okay?"

Kazuye looked over her shoulder. "Everything will be as it needs to be."

. .

[ **1 **] _la shay_, Arabic word for "_nothing._"

[ **2 **] _nada_, Spanish word for "_nothing_."

[ **3** ] _atle_, Nahuatl word for "_nothing._" Other alternatives include _amotlein_ and _amitla_.

[ **4 **] _Haminqui_, Nahuatl word for "_hunter_." _Hamani _is a different alternative.


	8. Soul Society IV

**xl note**: Listened to Lana Del Rey during the editing process. Lana does strange things to me, so this chapter may contain some strange things as well.

There is officially one more chapter to go. It should be up as soon as it's finished, so a day or two or three from today. You might be disappointed. I'm horrible at ending series. Haven't quite figured it out yet. Practice makes perfect.

Enough pep talk. Enjoy the chapter. We're back on Hinamori's POV, well mostly. Next chapter is completely Hinamori POV.

And many thanks to the reviewers: **BookLover2401**, **kiss2lips**, and **Aries01xD**.

* * *

**Nahualli **| Soul Society IV

Hinamori resolved herself to forget everything. She was overwhelmed with guilt and every day that passed meant she sank further into it. She was starting to drown; her guilt seeped into her lungs and slowly begun cutting the air supply. She couldn't look her captain in the face anymore. She found herself fleeing the company of her own friends. She immersed herself in work to the brink of mental exhaustion. She tried ignoring the gnawing emotion fighting its way out.

But every new day, she saw no reason to keep silent. Kazuye went about her time dallying. She enjoyed her tours around each division, liked that her presence brought upon whispers and finger pointing. At home, she indulged in her vegetable garden outside and winding the thread she spun with sticks of clay over a potter's wheel, meshing them together to build a model. And when she wasn't doing any of those things, she was eating.

The one thing Kazuye enjoyed to do most of all was savor new foods. She loved to eat. And she ate more than a small family, scarfing down seven servings of two different platters. It helped replenish her energy supply, she told her this over breakfast one day when Iyo was surprisingly still asleep and Akaho was missing, rumor had it that she found an interest in some mystery man.

_"Iyo siphons too much energy from me thinking I won't notice," _she had said, shaking her head. _"Oh, I notice. As soon as I hit a wall, I notice. It messes with my coordination. I don't do clumsy."_

Every new day, Hinamori wondered if Kazuye was really trying to remove Aizen from Muken. If that had been the plan, it certainly didn't look it. She spent much of her time distracted by a staggering amount of rumors involving things that happened years ago and Iyo's mysterious parentage. She cared more about spreading new ones, specifically supporting the idea that Aizen had fathered Iyo because to her it made better sense than claiming her daughter was a product of her marriage. Kazuye thought it was funny and Iyo was thrilled with the response when Hinamori asked her about it.

Kazuye and Iyo thought the situation was one big joke. Akaho was growing more and more irritable by day, whenever she was present, mostly due to their "stupid games." The last time they had all been in a room together, Akaho had stormed out of the house cursing in a different language that made Iyo flinch and Kazuye laugh. The trio of witches was arguing more often than not and Hinamori found that Iyo was a lot more like her mother than she had initially assumed, at least where sense of humor was concerned.

The last time Hinamori saw Akaho had been on the street, wearing a hard expression. The markings on her arm were more pronounced, darker and flared out as if new tattoos had appeared since the last time she had seen her.

_"We have overstayed our welcome here," _Akaho had said without warning. _"We will be thwarted. _He _is already here._"

_"He? Who's he?"_

_"He can read her like a book. He will know why she's here. She's run out of time."_

Hinamori wanted to crack. It was only a matter of time before she caved under the pressure of it all and it seemed she wasn't the only one after that exchange with Akaho.

.

.

"I talked to Akaho-san yesterday," Hinamori confided.

The house was oddly silent because Iyo was sleeping and Kazuye was scouring her possessions in a seemingly bottomless trunk. She had drawn three bolts of fabric from inside and dozens of antique vases, each taller than the last. Kazuye halted, tugging a bolt of periwinkle silk from the open trunk. She turned slowly, eyebrows raised. "About?"

Hinamori couldn't lie to her even if she tried. "She said you ran out of time."

"Oh, that." She sounded disappointed. "Is that all?"

Despite her reaction, Kazuye set the bolt with the others and waved her hand in the direction of the trunk. It slammed shut, the fabrics sticking out sliding in and the leather straps joining to seal it. She took a seat on top, crossing one leg over the other, and looked about ready to engage in serious, life-changing conversation.

"She's hysterical," she confessed, exhaling. "Akaho."

"I think she's just worried," Hinamori said in the Qasim's defense. "She didn't want you to do this from the start."

"It's because she's under the impression that Sōsuke controls me, that he has my name," replied Kazuye. "The only thing he has is my mother's oath—favors, momentary servitude, whatever you want to call it. Oaths may be hard to break, but they have loopholes. I don't do as he asks, I do as _I_ wish."

Hinamori remembered Akaho's steeled tone as she confessed her worries, as if she was exhaling for the first time in weeks. She needed to say them to someone willing to listen since she believed Kazuye lived in her own world and Iyo was too young to understand the severity of their situation.

Frankly, Hinamori was anxious too, guilt-ridden for the situation but nervous for their sake.

"She mentioned a man."

Kazuye arched an eyebrow. "A man?"

Hinamori nodded.

"What did she say?"

"That he would know why you're here."

Kazuye abandoned her seat in a rush as though the words were an attack. "That's impossible!" she blurted. "Nobody can possibly know. I made sure that nobody could speak of this to anyone outside the circle. It's impossible."

Hinamori believed Kazuye's disbelief. For the first time, she looked completely lost as she fumbled back into her seat atop the trunk.

"It's impossible…"

* * *

Kazuye used Aizen's name in vain. She spread shameless rumors to counter Sumire's failed attempts to stir the Akram hags' pot and did it all with little to no disguises. As expected, there were consequences, Iyo faced growing adversity and Akaho reached her boiling point (not that she hadn't weeks ago when she threatened to tell the whole world her plan).

In the end, after half a month of rumor warfare, the ancient witches summoned her to their home. They made a number of outlandish requests that included bringing the source of all adversity, her daughter, and the Qasim, who dared trespass into their territory, Hinamori, to interrogate as a witness, as well as affected parties like Katō Sumire, Hirako Shinji, Kyoraku Shunsui, the Captain Commander and Aizen Sōsuke, the cherry on top.

The immortal bastard himself had refused the invitation, claiming the story for what it was, or in his words: _"That is merely Hisame Kazuye's way of exposing one hand to shield another."_ Of course, who would believe him? Nobody.

Iyo had been eager and Akaho willing, but she forced both to stay in the house. She merely patted her daughter's head and had said, _"The one day those hags summon you to call you names, you're going to want to enjoy it on your own."_ She had been called selfish by the girl just before she stormed out of the room and Akaho stood before her menacingly.

_"Happy now?"_ she had demanded.

_"Oh, plenty,"_ Kazuye had replied, wry smile and all.

There were rumors that Yamamoto Genryūsai had no intention of witnessing what he had predicted weeks ago. But the man had no hope left for her, so he was the least of her concerns.

Hirako and Hinamori were going. She learned about it last time she went to visit them to whisk Hinamori away on a tour around Ninth Division, which she thoroughly enjoyed. There were so many good-looking men there; most of them were cautious after Muguruma Kensei called her a succubus. She had never been called a succubus before and stood mildly impressed by what she thought had been an observation, not an insult. She countered with a sly grin, running her finger down his muscled chest, _"Let us hope you do not find me in your bed, captain. I'd suck you dry."_ There was a yawning silence as everyone stood stunned and she started sauntering down the street once more. She snapped her teeth at his tattooed lieutenant, causing him to flinch, and cackled the rest of the way.

Hinamori tried mending the situation by apologizing to everyone, but Kazuye's succubae reputation was a budding success with the Akram rumor mill. Men everywhere avoid her like the plague, some claiming that once she locked eyes with one, they were doomed forever. But just as many chose to avoid her, a handful were curious.

Kyoraku informed her of his attendance when she brought over a peace offering to his office in the form of a very expensive, but very exquisite sake. They indulged in careless conversation without once discussing the past and as she delved further in the snares of inebriation, she relaxed for the first time. She hadn't known how tense she had been until the sake loosened her muscles and left her in a state of complete utter peace.

Alcohol helped cloud her eyes to the flow of energy. It also helped to remind her why she had been willing to say yes to the loveless marriage proposal Kyoraku made two centuries ago. He was harmless to her. He had never hurt her, not even unintentionally. His vows were wrought of pity, but his resolve was his own. And for the first time since the Akram hags' summoned her, she was happy to have him present and she thanked him for it.

Kyoraku gave her a drunken smile. "_I did say whenever you needed me, didn't I?_"

His words were slurred barely legible, but she was probably just as drunk as he was because she understood him perfectly. They were speaking their own drunken language.

"_I think you're doing right by Iyo-chan. She's lucky to have you._"

Kazuye stared at him unexpectedly. She dropped her eyes to her hands. "_Death erased the mark of marriage from our bodies,_" she started, unconsciously tracing her thumb over the inside of her wrist. "_Infidelity would have smeared it. I never betrayed you._"

He laughed, nodding. "_I know that already._"

Hearing those words leave his lips lifted a weight off her shoulders, one she never knew she had carried for so long. She could have cried, let all bottled up emotional drama fall from her eyes until it was exhausted, but she imagined there would be another time for that. Just not now.

.

.

Kazuye idled at the entrance of her home acting like a nervous wreck. Less than an hour remained before she needed to present herself without her daughter or her bodyguard or anyone of particular relevance to her success in the case the Akram Shaman made against her.

Her mind was in chaos. She had barely managed to complete her clay model of Seireitei (most conjured through wish power), the spellwork was in place, but Akaho refused to play her part. That wouldn't do. Kazuye had a single opportunity to make her dues with Aizen—the window was wide open now, but soon it would shrink into a mere speck and the next one would be years apart. She didn't have the patience to sit out the dozens of years it took before another opportunity arose. She needed this one.

It was the only string of events that led to the desired result.

Iyo poked her head out the window, restless. She pouted. "Are you sure I can't go?"

"A hundred percent sure," Kazuye answered easily.

"You look like you need someone to help you out," Iyo went on. "Akaho-san said this wasn't going to go as you wanted. You need us there."

"Perhaps that's exactly what I've wanted."

"Akaho-san said you'd say something like that."

"Sometimes, mama needs to take care of things on her lonesome."

"Oh yeah? Then why are Hirako-san and Hinamori-san and Kyoraku-san going?"

"Because they're key to this."

"And why aren't Yamamoto-san and that convict going?"

Kazuye sighed, leaning into the wall. "Because they already know it's going to be bad."

"Can I go tour the rest of your missing divisions while you're gone?"

Kazuye considered it. "Do you know how to measure?"

"I know how to do it, but not how to read it," Iyo admitted.

Iyo could help dissolve any inconsistencies in the model…so what was the problem? _Stop being paranoid._ "Only if Akaho agrees to go with you."

Iyo slinked back into the house, running off. "Akaho-san! Mama said I can go!"

"Ask her if she'll regret it!"

Kazuye heard Iyo trotting back to the window to ask her that very question. She rolled her eyes and turned around, peering inside. "I won't."

Iyo barely made it into the room before sprinting off again, repeating her response.

Akaho was going through an infuriating phase she hoped would not rub off on her daughter.

* * *

Kazuye arrived late.

Hinamori rose from her seat upon sensing her approach and was the first to notice that she had come alone. The rest of the attending party waited beyond the shoji doors where her captain and Katō Sumire were everything but quiet. As much as Captain Kyoraku tried smoothing things over between them, the two were in the middle of waging war over everyone's favorite subject.

Kazuye brushed the hair out of her face, sounding winded. "Is everyone here?"

"Yes, you were the only one missing," Hinamori answered, greeting her with a smile. "Captain Hirako and Katō-san have been arguing nonstop."

"Well, at least she's not half his size now."

Hinamori laughed. She led her through the doors and into the unwelcoming atmosphere that could only be identified with the mysterious Akram Shaman, who seemed to radiate emotion.

The room was chill, a breath of winter.

Hinamori shivered and Kazuye noticed as she strode forward to meet the Akram Shaman eye to eye. "Would it kill you to show a little restraint?"

"Would you blame me for being on guard with the likes of you around?" Sumire snapped back.

The cold dissipated with one of Kazuye's proud smiles. Sumire frowned.

Kazuye bested her. That alone was obvious.

"Let's go under then," Kazuye suggested.

Hinamori joined her captain, listening to his grumbling.

Sumire huffed, turning swiftly, long ponytail waving behind her. She approached the entrance behind her, which unlike the others had the familiar Nahualli markings all along the wooden frame. That door was the only thing that looked out of place inside the small structure they entered earlier.

Hinamori had never seen it before and she walked the streets of Seireitei more often than not, but to miss that single door in an alley near Eight Division was almost like forgetting where to find the gate to Fifth Division. Hirako eventually explained that it was invisible to anyone outside the Nahualli circle and that all they needed was an invitation from the Akram Relics, but that it had been there since the first lineages settled in.

For something squeezed in an alley, it was unbelievably spacious with an entrance room full of plants and a waiting room with cushioned alcove seats.

Sumire ran her fingers along the outline of glyphs to her left and the ground rumbled as if she had pressed an invisible button.

Hinamori backed into the wall to keep herself from tipping over when the doors slid open and two women stepped forward. Identical twins with curling auburn hair cascading down their naked shoulders and wide, almond-shaped eyes—the two had the same violet markings tattooed on opposite sides of their faces. The one standing to the left had symbols twisting in the form of a broken crescent that marked the area beside her left eye whereas her twin had the same tattoo on the right side. They dressed in a similar fashion, sleeveless kimono tops cinched at the waist over a pair of tight black pants.

The women bowed deeply for Kazuye. "_Cihuapillahtocatzintli_."

Whatever that meant irked Sumire, who gave them an order in the same language and gestured in their direction.

The Right Twin approached them obediently, holding up her hands before Captain Hirako. He tugged his zanpakutō from his sash and placed it on her hands.

She tucked his sword under her arm and stepped in front of Hinamori, who looked up to her captain for reassurance. At his nod, she offered her own zanpakutō and watched as Captain Kyoraku placed his swords in her hands with a sly grin that earned him a sharp glare from Kazuye.

"They don't allow weapons or spellwork in their sanctuary," Hirako explained once the Nahualli sauntered away. "It's a way to protect the hags—"

"They're the Elders," Sumire corrected, holding her wrists out in front of the Left Twin who clasped them. "You should be more respectful of them."

"I'll respect them when they respect me," snapped Hirako.

Kazuye snorted, allowing the Right Twin to take her wrists in her hands after setting the zanpakutō in one of the alcoves.

"Don't encourage them, Kaz." Kyoraku sighed. "They've been bickering all day."

The twins were chanting words in their ancient language until a mark bloomed upon the Shamans' wrists and circled them looking like vine manacle. It was then that they finally let them go and went on to do the same to them as well.

Hinamori felt heat radiating from Right Twin's palms until the same mark settled around her wrists. She touched it even after hearing it wasn't permanent and felt it was strange.

"It blocks the ability to use spiritual energy," Kyoraku said, noting her discomfort.

"It also makes it easier for them to subdue us if we get rowdy," Hirako added.

Right Twin picked up their zanpakutō and entered the darkened room from which she emerged, her footsteps disappearing down a long staircase. Left Twin guided them down the barely lit steps as soon as her sister was out of sight and remained silent the whole way, as did Sumire who tried staying ahead of everyone.

Hinamori took the rear.

Kazuye pinched Kyoraku's arm accusingly. "I see you looking at them."

"Ow!" He rubbed his shoulder.

"Well, they aint ugly," Hirako commented. "Won't hurt ta look."

"Looking breeds temptation," she said quickly, reaching over to pinch Hirako as harshly as she did Kyoraku.

"Geez!" cried Hirako, slapping her hand away.

"As far as you know they're nuns!"

"Don't you think that's more tempting?" asked Kyoraku, earning another pinch.

Hinamori suppressed the urge to laugh.

The three started to bicker, both men opposed the idea that looking bred temptation and Kazuye continued to stress the importance of the women's purity until Sumire exploded into a fit that resulted in the men being called insatiable pigs and Kazuye an idiot. Hinamori wasn't spared. Sumire criticized her for being uninvolved and that set both Hirako and Kazuye off in a new tirade.

Their voices echoed off the stone walls.

Hinamori glanced over her shoulder, unaffected by it all. They had walked a long way down and still, there was no end in sight. Light was growing scarce. There were fewer candles the deeper they headed into Soul Society's underground. Surprisingly, she hadn't missed a step.

Kazuye suddenly slipped with a yelp. She fell forward into Captain Hirako's back, nearly knocking him off balance had it not been for Captain Kyoraku's quick reflexes who grabbed her by the arm. She cursed.

"Can't you at least light some candles?" she complained as soon as she composed herself.

The twin answered in her ancient language.

"Well this is just shitty service."

"What'd she say?" Hirako asked.

"Said she can't use spellwork either and her sister forgot to light the candles by hand this morning," Kazuye translated. "Honestly. You both have been here how long?"

Again, the twin replied, this time with laughter in her voice.

Kazuye snorted.

"Don't you ever stop complaining?" snapped Sumire.

"I almost killed myself here, I have a right," Kazuye shot back.

"Your dumbass missed a step, get over it."

"I'd like to see you miss a step and get over it."

Sumire rolled her eyes. Hinamori couldn't see it, but she assumed she did.

The trip downstairs continued for several silent minutes before they reached another door, a steel entrance situated under a flood of orange light. A strange herbal scent slid through the cracks in the walls, filling the small area with the smell of wildflowers and rain forest.

Kyoraku whistled. "Never changes, does it. Feels just as charged as the first time I came down."

"I sure didn't miss this place," Hirako breathed, looking up to the ceiling.

An ominous feeling crawled along the back of Hinamori's neck. She shuddered, unsure of the feeling.

Kazuye and Sumire were in the middle of a heated discussion with the twin in their own language, who kept jabbing her finger in the latter's direction to her chagrin. Sumire gestured wildly in Kazuye's face, spitting her next words out before falling silent.

"Translation?" asked Hirako.

"You don't want to hear this," answered Kyoraku. "Not with that tone."

On cue, Sumire shot them a silencing glare before pushing the doors open with ease. She abandoned them where they stood leading the way down a long dirt pathway flanked by dozens of black-barked trees with willowy branches.

The twin gestured for the rest to follow and they set off into a forest that probably should not exist underground.

"Did you see how angry she was?"

Hinamori jolted. She hadn't realized Kazuye was walking next to her. "Who? Katō-san?"

Kazuye exhaled. "I missed this."

"How is this underground?"

"It isn't," she clarified. "It's an illusion, reflects the collective moods of four insufferable hags. Most the trees are rotting and there are serpents and spiders on the branches—oh, that's a boa."

Hinamori yelped as a fat snake dropped down from one of the branches, hissing with its forked tongue waving. She clung to Kazuye's arm.

Kazuye wiggled her arm free and wrapped it around her shoulders, guiding her around the boa slithering along the drooping branch. Hinamori's face burned with embarrassment as soon as she realized Kazuye had an arm over her shoulders and both her superiors had seen a boa scare her.

"You okay?" called Hirako.

"Yes!" Hinamori squeaked, nervous as she wiped her brow.

Kazuye dropped her hold on her shoulders and shot her an apologetic look. "They're a pack of assholes and they know it."

It took one scare for Hinamori to start noticing the dozens of critters lurking behind the branches or on freshly woven webs. Leaves rustled with movement, faraway she could hear the sound of bubbling and, as they neared an archway, spotted a black lake with large bubbles bursting over its surface. The water rained down with an acidic splash and the smell of rotting wood and flesh was stronger, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Kazuye looked green when she crossed the archway and the dark forest disappeared into a narrow hallway lit by wall scones.

She held a hand to her mouth. "I think I'm gonna—"

.

.

The "Akram hags" were a quartet of ancient-looking women with paper-white hair and milky eyes that could look right through a person. They were the oldest Nahualli in existence and were known for their unlimited knowledge among their ranks. There was no higher authority within the Soul Society Nahualli with the exception of the reigning Queen, Sumire's great aunt who surprisingly graced them with her presence.

Tono Sumika stood before the four Akram Elders, towering over their hunched forms, with a proud look in her golden eyes. She wore her glossy dark hair loose without adornments so it hung around her heart-shaped face. She wore a bulky necklace made of bright green stones and had glyphs tattooed down her neck and collarbone as if they mapped out a whole dynasty of Nahualli rulers.

According to Hirako, Sumire was the current heir to her great aunt's throne, which according to the twins that escorted them down to meet with the Elders belonged to Kazuye, illegitimate or not. Sumire's flaring temperament made sense. The fact that she kept arguing with the younger woman at the entrance was because the twin addressed Kazuye as the queen and now, in the presence of the reigning queen, she had not even bothered to bow. The action upset them all and nothing but harsh, criticizing glares befell the pair of twins, who united briefly before the darkened corners of the room swallowed them into nonexistence.

A trio of blue-robed women appeared from behind the raised platform in the center and halted at Sumika's command. Their delicate looking fingers were tattooed in blue ink, swift jagged lines Hinamori thought looked identical to the sort Akaho wore on her arm.

The entire room was frosty, lit by a fluorescent light peeking through the lines of the platform. The walls were sleek, white marble like the floors that echoed their every movement and behind the Queen and her elders stood a giant black hole, swirling with condensed energy.

It weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Sumika introduced the Elders in order, as an extent of her courtesy: Mito, Fuji, Hina, and Uiko.

Hag One, Two, Three, and Four according to Hirako and Kazuye. The two spent introductions whispering and giggling to themselves, not listening to a thing that Sumika said.

Captain Kyoraku tried smoothing things over, as always, but failed. Sumika criticized him for being unable to control his wife.

The fact still sounded foreign to Hinamori's ears, though it was old news. She just couldn't imagine Captain Kyoraku married to anyone, not with his reputation around women.

"You disobeyed orders, child," Sumika announced, staring Kazuye down from her platform. "You were asked to bring more that the three you offer us."

"Y'know how family is." Kazuye shrugged. "Never do as they asked. 'Sides, do you really want to bore a man as old as time itself with something he's avoided like the plague for years? And do you know how hard it is to get parole for a guy like Aizen? You're asking too much. I work miracles, but that's way outta my profession."

Sumika was peeved. "I was speaking about your daughter and that trespasser!"

"Oh." She nodded in the direction of the gaping hole behind them. "Iyo's too young to be near that thing and she needed someone to keep an eye on her. She's not yet thirteen and you know how kids—oh, I forgot you have none. I guess you don't know."

Hirako elbowed her.

Sumika exhaled, closing her eyes for a few seconds. "You are as insufferable as you were at sixteen."

"_Cihuapillahtocatzintli_, we must proceed!" snapped Uiko with a deep, accented voice.

The three Elders clamored in their native tongues, nodding their heads in agreement.

Sumika cleared her throat and started proceedings. She gestured for Kazuye to stand before her and the Elders as the rest stepped further away from the platform like jurors in their little box at a hearing.

In that moment, it was impossible to interrupt whatever would ensue from the summons.

"Do you know why you are here, Sayegh?" started Mito, voice bouncing off the walls.

Kazuye seemed to swallow a sarcastic remark when she bit out, "My daughter's father."

"A rumor speaks you broke the eternal promise to your husband," said Hina, guileless eyes landing on Captain Kyoraku. "Is this truth?"

Kazuye brought a hand to her neck, fingers digging into her flesh. She struggled to answer, her whole body shook.

Hinamori scanned everyone's faces, heart thundering at the first sign of trouble, and noticed Fuji's eyes were glued to Kazuye's face. _They can still use spellwork…_ She turned to her captain. He looked troubled. He knew.

Judging by Captain Kyoraku's expression, he did as well.

What sort of spellwork was Fuji using against Kazuye? Hinamori should have noticed immediately, but that black hole clouded her senses. She felt ordinary.

"M-Maybe, m-maybe not," Kazuye spat.

"She resists my control," Fuji said, unblinking. "How strong is this child?"

"I'm curious," Uiko started, drawing the attention from Fuji's comment. "How did you break the eternal promise without death?"

"With death," Kazuye said steadily. "That is the only way."

The answer spurred the Elders into another discussion in their native tongues, voices ringing with the clamor of possibility. Everyone who understood listened close, their expressions changing as soon as Mito made a suggestion that resonated within the room.

Hinamori felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She stifled a shudder.

"Sacrifice," Sumika translated. "Ancient spellwork, that of generations past, banned by our order."

"Sacrilege!" Sumire accused. "You're a monster!"

Kazuye shrugged. "I've heard worst."

"You don't deny it?" asked Uiko, eyes glittering.

"Using ancient spellwork? No," Kazuye answered simply. "I was taught limits. That day, I understood the purpose of the Sayegh blood. It is as sacred as it is strong and I have never felt stronger that I had that day."

"How many souls did you offer the gods for this power?" asked Mito gruffly. "How many innocents did you take?"

Kazuye said nothing. She resisted Fuji's pull on her, whole body shaking.

Hinamori glimpsed at her superiors. Speechless. Shocked.

The Nahualli banned human sacrifice. Had it been Kazuye who told her that? Or had it been Akaho? Hinamori couldn't think. She wanted to believe Kazuye was incapable of these things, but then she remembered how she had dragged home a dead shinigami for Akaho to announce his death. She could kill an innocent as easy as breathing.

But did she feel remorse?

Hinamori liked to think she did, that in some deep conscious level it was packed away where no one could ever see it. Someone like Hisame Kazuye couldn't be coldhearted.

…Hadn't she thought the same of Aizen Sōsuke?

Was she falling into another manipulator's grip?

"You will not answer?" Fuji challenged.

"No," replied Kazuye.

"It seems the only way we will have our answers will be using _that_," Fuji said coldly. "Apprehend her."

The blue-robed women were standing by the platform one minute and the next pushing Kazuye into the ground. She squirmed under their vise grips and cursed them to every level of Hell.

Captain Hirako moved forward to her defense, but Captain Kyoraku put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He took the hint. They could do nothing here.

One to each arm. Kazuye was dragged onto her knees, arms apart, as the third stood in front of her with a vial of sparkling white liquid. One look was all it took for her to understand.

"You will not make me drink that."

The robed woman before her smiled, taking it as a challenge.

Hinamori watched, paralyzed. The two women forced her arms so far back she cried out in pain. She swore she heard something crack. The woman in front of her opened her mouth wide enough to drip the sparkling liquid into Kazuye's mouth as tears sprung into her eyes from the obvious bone fracture.

Captain Hirako reached over, covering her eyes. "This aint something you oughta see."

Hinamori clasped both hands to Hirako's hand, trying to drag it from her eyes because she needed a reason to intervene when they wouldn't, but she couldn't. She heard the struggle, Kazuye refusing to swallow but the women were merciless. Another bone cracked and she cried louder, spitting.

"Not to worry, we made plenty of more for you."

An eternity might have passed when Hinamori blinked to the sight of Kazuye crumpled on the floor, breathing in pain. Nobody bothered to help and when Hinamori tried, she smacked straight into the invisible wall preventing their involvement. Four wall surrounded them, keeping them in.

"This had to be done, child," Sumika reasoned. "You will not tell us the truth otherwise."

"You think your illegitimacy makes you invisible to the rules, but it doesn't," Mito continued. "We see you clearly, Sayegh. We want a reason to understand why your grandmother would risk her standing for the likes of you. Children like you should not exist. You're an abomination."

"To barbaric customs," Kazuye spat, shaking violently as she tried to pick herself off the ground.

Uiko's eyes sparked with interest. "Such a fascinating girl you are. Broken, yet you still stand."

"Pure arrogance," Mito snubbed.

"Your child is not of your marriage," Fuji surmised. "She shares no likeness to that man. So who is it that gave you that girl? Was it truly the prisoner, Aizen Sōsuke?"

"No." Kazuye chocked on her words as if they were being forced out of her. "He was human. Spiritually strong."

"I don't believe you," Hina spoke up. "I acknowledge your strength. You need a man of caliber to conceive. There are only few in this world and none are human."

"He was human."

Fuji's eyes narrowed. "She speaks no lies."

"I don't believe her," Hina continued.

"She swallowed the liquid," Uiko argued. "She can only speak truth."

"That does not legitimize her daughter," said Mito.

"An example should be made of her," Sumika decided with a cruel smile. "Her grandmother prevented her death, but she has been given too much freedom—"

"Touch a single hair on her head and I will—"

Once more the robed women were on her, pushing her face into the ground harshly.

Sumika stared down at her smugly. "I am outside your power. You can do nothing to me."

"Don't underestimate me, you—"

One woman crushed her face into the marble. Blood splattered along the white surface.

Sumika regarded the Elders. "Do we agree?"

"We gave your grandmother a reason to prove you weren't an abomination, that no evil will come of your birth," Mito explained. "She gave us her word, made an oath, that you would be worthy of the crown she gave up for your sake, but here you stand, centuries later. You admit to ancient spellwork, to cheating death, to sacrilege—to a child borne of your darkness. You have proven nothing."

Kazuye struggled. "I have nothing to prove!"

"We will require permission from the Captain-Commander," Hina said quickly.

"Then we will acquire it," Sumika decided.

Hinamori could hear Kazuye murmuring. "_No, no, no, no, no._" Her voice was quiet and lost, like the world was ending. Besides her, her captain glared daggers at Sumika with a clenched jaw.

"Can't we do something?" Hinamori asked.

"No," Captain Kyoraku answered lowly. "Yama-jii is her last hope."

"And the old bastard's never recognized her for what she was," Hirako grumbled. "He won't give this to her. He'll side with these hags."

"Recognize what?"

"That she's his granddaughter."

.

.

Kazuye cradled her broken arm in her hand as everyone climbed the stairway solemnly. She looked a mess with a crooked nose and dry blood staining her face and the front of her clothes. She had bumps on her head and contusions all over her face and arms where the women guards had latched on to harm her. Her lip was busted because she spat in one of their faces on the way out and was punched in retaliation.

Captain Hirako and Captain Kyoraku had to drag her out of the room the moment she slammed her head into the nearest robbed woman, threatening to rip her head off her shoulders with her bare hands.

Hinamori tried to calm her, needed to apologize for being unable to do anything but realized it was useless. They had all wanted to do something to stop what happened, but they were in a glass box that prevented them from intervening. The minute she spoke a word to Kazuye, she burst into silent, furious tears. In the silent trek upstairs, she mumbled, "_This is why I didn't want to come back_."

This devastated Hinamori. She brought her here. An apology wouldn't fix this.

Those terrible women wanted to kill Iyo, to make an example out of her. The decision was the Captain Commander's, who turned out to be Kazuye's estranged grandfather. Years ago, he had supported making an example of his own daughter, set on allowing the Nahualli to murder Kazuye as soon as she was born. What would stop him from doing that this time?

As soon as they reached the entrance hall, the small comfortable waiting room, the twins returned their zanpakutō and removed the tattoos they placed on their wrists. Kazuye slammed her shoulder against the nearest doorframe, popping the bone back into place and went to Kyoraku to help with her wrist and nose.

There was a vicious quality to her expression that said she would have kidnapped and tortured Sumire had she not been smart enough to stay underground.

"What're you going to do?" asked Hirako.

"Probably kill the entire Zahir lineage," she replied with a sarcastic smile.

"We should go see Unohana," Kyoraku urged.

"Unless she's going to help, I don't see how that's necessary." Kazuye moved to the door. "Now excuse me, I'm going to go pick up my kid and find some people to terrorize."

Hirako shrugged, following her out the door.

Hinamori glanced at Kyoraku.

"I always wanted to say that," Kazuye said aloud, before sliding the other door open to exit.

"Yama-jii won't agree to it," Kyoraku said, self-assured. "The circumstances are different."

Hinamori wanted to believe in those words.

* * *

Kazuye spotted Akaho and Iyo seated in the office building of Fifth Division, speaking animatedly to a man hunched beside them pointing instructions to a game in the center of the table. She slowed her approach as she started familiarizing with the man's wide back and the messy blond hair under the striped hat. She suddenly felt far from presentable in her bloody, bruised face and stained clothes and partly fractured bones.

One name blared in her mind. _Urahara Kisuke_. Her first instinct was to flee—disappear before anyone realized she was there.

She took a measured step back, slow and quiet, and then another. She moved to turn away and rush out of sight—

Iyo's back straightened. She sensed her.

_Don't turn around, Iyo._

Kazuye had just turned, set on returning down the hallway from which she emerged.

"Mama!"

She froze mid-step, whirling around with a businesslike smile on her face. Akaho and Urahara were engaged in a semi-serious conversation, which gave her the opportunity to run and disappear.

"What took you so long?" Iyo demanded, bouncing out of her seat to reach her. She frowned. "It's almost dark out. And why are you all bloody?"

"Complications arose," she answered distractedly, looking over her daughter's head. "Something—"

Iyo clasped her hand in hers, causing her to wince, and started her dragging her towards the table with incredible strength. "Look, mama, I want you to meet someone," she started, eyes gleaming with excitement. Apparently, she didn't care what she looked like. "He knows a lot about us and he even taught me how to use a conduit since you'll never get around to do it."

Kazuye practically dragged her feet towards them, feeling Akaho's gaze land on her. The Qasim woman jerked out of her seat, brows drawn in observation, and stomped towards them. Her sudden movement was all he needed to glance over and he stood, eyes trained on her.

"Who did this to you?" Akaho demanded, reaching for her shoulders.

Kazuye flinched away. "Stop. It was dislocated," she explained. "They were Zahir women in the underground. Please take Iyo away from here. Take her home, to her room. I'll meet you there soon."

Akaho nodded obediently, grabbing Iyo by the wrist. "You heard your mother, we go now."

"See you mama," she said blithely, sensing no danger. She waved at Urahara. "Nice to meet you, Urahara-san."

Akaho and Iyo left immediately.

Urahara closed the distance between them. "Looks like you've got a bit of dry blood on your face, Kaz."

She unconsciously wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, smearing it. "Yeah."

The easy smile disappeared. His whole demeanor changed. "Why are you here, Kazuye?"

"Vacation?" she offered easily.

"After your very public death?"

"Ironic considering we're in Soul Society and that's basically what dead people do," she answered. "The real question is why are _you _here?"

Urahara gave her a cheery smile, dismissing her question. "Mind if I escort you to Fourth Division? Your eye's swollen."

Crisis averted.

She mirrored his smile. "Sure."

. .

[**1**] _Cihuapillahtocatzintli_ - Queen. (It's a real mouthful.)

* * *

Aizen in the flesh next chapter, anyone excited?


	9. Soul Society V, The End

**Nahualli **| Soul Society V

Iyo woke to the sound of her mother attacking the framework again. She was standing on a stool with a small carving tool with her clothes on inside out and her usually impeccably smooth curls a tangled mass that fell all around her head as lifeless as she looked.

It took one summons to see the Nahualli Council for her mother to do a complete one-sixty and things got ugly fast.

She rubbed her sleepy eyes, lounging across the futons. "Mama, are you going crazy?"

Kazuye jolted. "What?"

"Are you going cuckoo?" Iyo asked again.

Her mother blinked.

Iyo yawned. "Well, it's okay if you are," she admitted. "We can get a house in the countryside away from civilization and live the rest of our lives as agoraphobics. Akaho-san will be around to take care of us anyway so we won't have to worry about food or clean living; you know how OCD she can get."

Kazuye lowered her carving tool, eyebrows creased in confusion. "Have you no interest in boys?"

"Oh good, you're not going crazy." Iyo rolled onto her stomach and rested her head over folded arms. "Here I was starting to worry." She regarded her mother's quizzical glance with a smile and then turned her attention to the new protective symbols on the ceiling's framework. "You have noticed there's no spellwork in your charms, right?"

Kazuye grimaced, touching her fingers to the wooden surface with longing. "It seems there isn't."

"Why isn't there spellwork in your charms, mama?"

"Because I don't have spiritual energy to use spellwork…." Kazuye stepped off her stool and sat down atop it, distraught. She repeated herself, the words sounding clearer. "I don't have any spiritual energy."

Iyo concentrated on her mother's defeated form, seeing for herself that her mother, indeed, did not have spiritual energy to use. She felt surprisingly normal and the usual warmth she sensed radiating from her had been replaced by a cold wall.

"I think someone did some evil voodoo on you," Iyo taunted playfully. "Was it Akaho-san? She's been itching to curse you."

"Akaho wouldn't dare."

The door slid open and the redhead in question leaned into the doorway. "I already tried," she admitted. "Your mother is a hard witch to curse. She has a sixth sense for that sort of thing."

"But her spiritual energy has been blocked up completely and we know you were hanging out with that Mzali hag behind our backs," Iyo countered, noting the Qasim's unique wardrobe. She wore a sleeveless vest over a tank top that exposed the extent of her tattooed arm and tight jeans with combat boots. A pair of fingerless gloves poked out of her vest pocket, a new pair. "And where are you going?"

"Underground," Akaho answered, looking to Kazuye. "Will you be fine?"

Kazuye nodded dully.

"Am I finally going to get to meet your boyfriend, mama?" Iyo asked teasingly. "Hinamori-san told me he pretended to be the nicest guy in the world until he offed himself when the lieutenant from Thirteenth Division was going to be executed. I heard he had a great reveal before going to Hueco Mundo—hey, do you think we can go to Hueco Mundo? Can he take us? 'Cause I think I really, really want to go."

"Why do you want to go to Hueco Mundo?" asked Kazuye, exhausted.

"Because I've never been there before?" she offered, shrugging.

"I don't think we can go to Hueco Mundo."

"Why not?"

"Because three Nahualli witches in Hueco Mundo is like a slab of meat in the cage of thousands of starving lions," Akaho explained. "Hueco Mundo is the last place you want to be, especially as a work-in-progress."

"Mama, Akaho-san called me a work-in-progress!" she complained.

Kazuye strained to respond. "You'll be fine as soon as you turn fifteen. Most witches reach maturity by then."

"Fifteen is a long time!"

"You'll be thirteen soon enou—" Kazuye jerked out of her seat and rushed as far seven steps before retching sparkling white liquid all over the ground.

Akaho rushed to her side, pushing a handkerchief to her mother's mouth.

Iyo stared at her mother's vomit curiously. Vomit didn't usually sparkle, nor did it burn a hole through the floor. "Mad voodoo curse," Iyo said with certainty. "Mama—"

Tears had sprung in her mother's eyes. She was in pain as she ran her fingers over her neck.

"It burns," she croaked, struggling to breathe. She held onto Akaho's arm like a lifeline, tears rolling down her face. "Akaho, go. You have to go—we can leave this place."

Iyo jumped onto her feet, running across the room to pull her mother into a hug. She didn't want to see her cry, but she couldn't pretend she knew how to get rid of the voodoo curse placed on her. It probably wasn't even a curse. It could be something else. She didn't know. She never paid attention to her lessons unless they involved blowing stuff up and healing was the most boring subject she ever endured. She wished she had listened to Akaho when she explained healing spellwork.

"Akaho-san?"

Akaho pried Kazuye's fingers from her arm and faced Iyo. "Don't leave this room. Your mother is in no condition to protect you. I promise I won't be long."

But her mother always protected her…and those words sounded very strange in her ears, no matter how many times she repeated them.

Akaho whispered something to Kazuye before getting up to leave. She left them alone in the room, and instead of her clinging to her mother in her hour of need…her mother clung to her.

"_Xinechtlapopolhui_, _Ixchel_."

Iyo suppressed a shudder. The last and only time her mother had called her by her birth name was the day she revealed it to her, stressing how important it was for her to remember it and never speak it again.

Kazuye took her face in her hands and forced her to look her straight in the eyes. "There are people that want to hurt you," she grated, trying to smile despite the tears forming in her eyes. "These people have done all they could to prevent me from protecting you. I can't do anything to help you without access to my spiritual—"

"Take mine!" Iyo demanded. She wanted to find a way to help her. "I have loads to spare."

Her mother shook her head. "You're too young."

"But I'm not! I'm nearly thirteen!"

Kazuye laughed quietly. "Yes, you are," she said, tucking Iyo's stringy hair behind her ears. "I could kill you if I tried."

"What am I—?"

"Listen to me, Ixchel," she started, the name rang of power. "You protect yourself."

"But you're here—"

"—and I'm useless," she interjected. "So you listen to me, if another witch, that isn't me or Akaho, however strong they are, whatever rank they may be, no matter how young or old they might be, you strike back. Hit them as hard as you can. If they retaliate, you hit them harder. Whatever happens—if there are casualties—"

Iyo hated that sort of talk. Casualties? She couldn't even process it. She knew what that meant with women like her mother and Akaho because neither one of them pretended to be saints. Certain circumstances led to unwarranted casualties. People tried their patience, people wronged them, Nahualli hunted them—there were so many reasons.

Although she had initially been devastated because she grew up under the impression that her mother was incapable of wrongdoing, Kazuye let her be angry. She allowed her to call her as many names as her seven-year-old self could think up and didn't hold it against her when she latched onto Akaho to replenish her spiritual energy after numerous attempts to hex her mother. Kazuye didn't even complain when the hexes started to work and she had to live weeks of purple hair and a clown face.

Eventually, Iyo learned that everything Kazuye did was for a reason, part of some greater scheme. But that had been her mother.

Iyo couldn't fathom causing death. She didn't have a grand scheme.

"Are you listening?"

Iyo snapped out of it. "Yes, mama."

"Then do it, Ixchel. Do it."

.

.

Somewhere, glass smashed into a wall followed by the sound of a struggle before a dead silence rolled in.

Iyo opened her eyes and searched the room for her absent mother wondering if the noises that roused her from sleep had all been a dream. It might have been a nightmare after all the food she ate during lunch. She had been advised to quit while she was ahead, but she refused, stressing that she had to eat double since her mother couldn't stand near the smell of food without barfing more sparkly, acidic vomit. She wanted to prove she could protect her mother in Akaho's absence, though several hours had passed since their bodyguard left and she was bound to reappear any minute now.

Maybe Akaho returned.

Suddenly, a voice reached her. "The spellwork is strong here."

It wasn't Akaho.

She jerked around, kicking the blankets from her legs. She scrambled onto her feet, wondering when she had the time to fall asleep.

Footsteps neared.

Iyo panicked, ambling towards the closet. She dropped down into a seat as the voices grew louder up until two silhouettes appeared behind the left entrance of her room. She wished her great-grandmother's ancient carvings still had their spellwork. Maybe they could protect her from whoever the strangers were.

The doorframe rattled noisily and words were exchanged in a language she didn't understand.

A cold male voice answered their efforts, speaking in Japanese. "Force it open."

She watched—a prayer stuck in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest with every harsh bang the shoji doors received. She flinched with each thump, winced when the door splintered, wooden shards landing across the tatami and the washi paper ripped to shreds as if by claws.

Iyo saw bright, calculating eyes fall on her and the man they belonged to as the door fell away in large chunks of bamboo wood. He stood behind two women in blue robes, taller by at least three feet with choppy black hair and a strong build. He looked daunting—eyes alight with malice.

One woman, a redhead covered in blue ink, placed a tattooed hand over the invisible wall blocking their entrance. "The spellwork is impressive."

The second woman, a blond with a freckled nose, peered in, spotting her among the closet clutter. She grinned, a chilling smile that strummed a cord down Iyo's back.

Every fear came rushing forward. She swallowed hard.

"I used to love seeing that tortured look on her mother," the second one said, proud. "Lovely girl."

"Can you break it?" the man asked, regarding the redhead.

"Not without a price," she answered, looking down at her hand.

"Pay it. We shouldn't keep Sumika waiting."

Iyo sat paralyzed in her seat as the trio reverted to the language she didn't understand. She couldn't sense her mother and that meant two things: unconscious or dead. She dreaded the latter. She didn't want to believe it was possible because if anything was certain, killing a Sayegh Shaman was nearly impossible to accomplish. And she had faith.

Her mother was somewhere in the house unconscious thanks to the intruders. That was what she told herself.

The redhead started murmuring words, her lips pressed against her tattooed fist. The blond gauged at her expression, thrilled with it, and the man said nothing.

Iyo surveyed the room for some form of weapon and spotted the carving tool her mother had used on the framework on the ground. She sprang towards it while she still had time, snatched it in her hands and scrambled back to the closet, listening to the amusement in the intruder's voices.

"It's useless, girl," called the blond. "Even if your mother taught you how to carve protection, you don't have her power."

She refused to believe her efforts would be useless as she stabbed the sharp end into the wood. She felt a wave of energy push her into the wall.

The invisible barrier was in the midst of withstanding a strong surge of malignant energy—ancient spellwork.

Iyo looked over her shoulder. The redhead cradled the stump of her hand to her chest, using the other to push against the barrier, making it and the fissures forming along its surface visible.

She panicked, stabbing the tool into the wood harder into the only legible symbol she could think of under pressure. The Sayegh crest—scales, two crooked lines joined at the top with a plate strung from each end of the horizontal line. It looked terrible, but she poured all the spiritual energy she could muster when the barrier shattered, bolts of wayward energy struck different areas in the room.

She kept the carving tool held close to her chest and scrambled closer to the back wall of the closet.

The redhead slumped against the wall, blood pouring from her sacrificed hand. She brushed off all sign of concern from her companions and the three approached the closet stealthily.

The blond leaned close, fingers dancing up the barrier Iyo was surprised was keeping her out, a curious smile on her face. She found the crest, raking her nails along the surface, staring her down.

"This is weak."

As soon as she spoke the words, the barrier shattered and Iyo sat vulnerable with only a carving tool to defend herself with.

The blond reached forward.

Immediately, Kazuye's words resonated in her mind. _"Then do it, Ixchel. Do it."_

There was power in that name and she never understood it until then. She fisted her hands, closed her eyes shut, and inhaled deeply. Spiritual energy seemed to course through her limps, rushing to her lungs when she let it all out in the form of a silent scream. A burst of energy threw the trio off balance, sending them flying in different directions and smashing through walls from the sheer force of the power.

She had done this one time before, when the swarm of Hollow were closing in on her and her mother told her to envision anything without need of calculations or measurements. Sayegh were pure power. She proved herself as a Sayegh that day. Its effectiveness left her winded.

Iyo acknowledged that she had used too much spiritual energy as she forced her body onto her feet. She needed to find her mother and run somewhere safe. If she found Sasakibe, he could help her.

She only hoped they three had hit their heads where they landed.

She heard the floor creak under her weight. It startled her to see the damage done to the house, but sensed all the enchantments protecting her were gone. Nobody would come save her unless they heard the racket, but she doubted these three had been dumb enough to storm the house without erecting a barrier to prevent trespassers.

Maybe someone would notice it? But they were Nahualli. They could create invisible barriers that would rouse no suspicions.

Her hope was dwindling.

Iyo sprinted across the room, hoping they were dumb. She slipped on the pool of blood the redhead left behind, landing hard on her back and sliding to the opposite wall.

She groaned, body paralyzed by waves of pain.

Another sound alerted her senses. Rubble clattering to the floor as one of the three rose to their feet with a terrible spike in spiritual pressure. It fell upon her like a ton of bricks, pinning her to the bloodied ground.

Heart pounding in her head, the anxiety was hard to bear. She was fighting against using the remainder of her spiritual energy because there was no one to replenish it and having none meant certain death. And she couldn't die. She wouldn't do that to her mother.

She felt his towering shadow fall across her body and the tension in her muscles doubled, back throbbing with new pain. Her eyes found him raising a sword over his head, ready to stake her with it.

"Dead or alive, she said."

Iyo fought the urge to cry, shutting her eyes tightly. It would hurt. That's what swords do when they pierce the skin.

_It's gonna hurt so bad—_

Something warm spilled over her face and the man made a gurgling noise.

The weight on her body disappeared.

It was over.

_Good, it didn't hurt._

She opened her eyes, set on finding the sword sticking out of her chest cavity but found nothing. She looked up to the shocked expression on her assailant's eyes and the sword jutting out from between his neck and shoulder.

With a yelp, she scrambled onto a seat, kicking her feet to get away from him before his body hit the floor with a thud. Her back hit something hard and her heart dropped to her stomach because it wasn't a wall.

Blood dripped from the bridge of her nose and slowly, she tipped her head back. She bumped into a second man. This one looked like he could use some sunshine, a haircut, and some food. He didn't need an introduction.

"Where is Akaho-san?" she asked quietly, politely even.

A smile graced his lips. "I wonder."

He moved away from her, walking down the hall.

Iyo hated how safe she suddenly felt and jumped to her feet, running in the opposite direction calling out for her mother and Akaho. She opened several doors, searched several rooms to the point of realizing the house staff was curiously missing, before she finally found her mother slumped on her side surrounded by shards of glass.

Beside her was the man dressed in black, pressing his fingers to her neck in search of a pulse. He spared Iyo a look, eyes a dull brown, a shade lighter than his tangled hair. There were hollows in his eyes and his cheeks were sunken in. She sensed no spiritual energy from him, couldn't even see it. He was closed off to her.

In an obstructed corner, Iyo could see another body. It was probable that had been the reason for the shattered glass.

Iyo approached, ignoring the pain of the tiny pieces stabbing into her foot. She was careful.

"I'm Iyo," she introduced lamely.

His eyes met her face. "I know."

She felt stupid.

Her expression must have amused him because he had smiled.

"You didn't kill Akaho-san, right?"

"No," he said simply.

"And she's not outside either, is she?"

"No."

He was indulging her. She felt even stupider, but she couldn't stop talking.

"Can people vomit sparkly, acidic liquid?"

He rose to his full height, ignoring her question. "More are coming."

"I take it you're about to leave."

He said nothing, though he did offer her his hand.

Curiously, she sauntered closer and touched his palm, ready to jerk away if needed. His fingers closed around hers and immediately, she felt a surge of spiritual energy rush up her arm and run straight to her core.

He let her go quickly and as soon as he turned, he was gone.

Her insides were shaking. If she had ever thought her mother's spiritual energy was strong, this man was stronger. She shook herself out of her stupor, remembering his warning. _"More are coming."_

Iyo checked on her mother quickly to make sure she was wound-free.

She sprinted out the other entrance, wincing at the pain on her feet. She found the dead man still lying on his stomach with the sword sticking out of his body. She kicked his body onto his back and grabbed the sword's handle. It was better than no protection. She was too nervous to use spellwork.

She gave it a harsh tug, stomach twisting at the sound of the metal scrapping against bone and the gush of blood pouring from the wound.

A shadow caught her eye.

She started to turn, but she only felt the impact. The rest was dark.

* * *

"How long has Hisame-san been here?"

Captain Hirako shot Urahara Kisuke a look of disbelief. "What's that matter? She's about to have her kid executed."

Urahara grimaced. "The Council should know better than to give her a reason to act out."

"Tell that to Sumika. She ordered it." Hirako found Hinamori rummaging through the shelves, reorganizing the mess he had made that morning. "How's she doin' today?"

Hinamori pictured Kazuye taking a knife to the wooden frames all over Iyo's room carving new symbols with a wild look in her eyes. She had uttered a thousand words beneath her breath in the short instant that she was present and remained busily frazzled ever since. She banned everyone from giving Iyo a reason for her mother's sudden personality change.

"Plotting against the Zahir," Hinamori answered, pushing a leather book into the shelf. It was the only reasonable response she could give when it came to Kazuye's behavior. "Same as yesterday."

"What did the Zahir do to her?" asked Urahara.

"Beat her senseless during the hearing," Hirako replied. "She promised to behead one with her bare hands."

"Hinamori-san, do you know how long she's been here?" Urahara asked, sticking to the initial subject.

He walked into Fifth Division intent on learning as much about her stay as possible, sounding almost suspicious, though he didn't seem as surprised as everyone else had when Kazuye turned out alive.

"Almost a month," she said truthfully.

"What has she been doing here for a month?"

Hirako arched an eyebrow. "Sunbathing," he said simply, as if it was universal knowledge. "She's on vacation. She told ya that already, she aint lying."

Her captain wasn't lying. Kazuye had been sunbathing on the rooftops of Fifth Division before she received the summons. She had a golden tan she had been proud of at the time, but since then, she had been as pale as paper. It was like she had never seen the sun before in her life, or a hairbrush.

The Captain-Commander said nothing according to the order. Not even when Captain Kyoraku tried bringing up the subject, he was shot down immediately and it was never to be spoken again.

How long would it take for Iyo to figure something terrible had happened?

"Why're ya askin' so many questions?" Hirako asked, arms folded over his chest. "I heard you've been talking to everyone 'bout it. Bet Kensei complained 'bout her to ya, eh?"

"She threatened to sleep with him," Urahara said, as if it were a serious danger.

Hirako huffed. "She aint a succubus! She's an adult Nahualli with complete control over her spiritual energy," he retorted. "'Sides, that wasn't even a real threat and even if it was, he wouldn't be complain' long."

Hinamori shook her head, cheeks flaring with a blush.

"Everyone is looking for a reason to hate her," Hirako finished. "She's old enough to know better now and she's been minding her business—"

"There is only one reason Hisame Kazuye would return to Soul Society and it isn't to mind her own business," Urahara interrupted. "She's lying."

Hinamori tried keeping her focus on her bookkeeping, but listening to his confession made it hard. Kazuye was lying. She was in Soul Society to release Aizen from his prison under a serendipitous guise.

"How do ya know?"

"A hunch."

Hinamori finished organizing the shelf and excused herself to meet with the unseated officers for target practice. She needed to leave before her guilt led to a revelation.

The door burst open before she reached out to touch it and Kazuye appeared, pale as a ghost with dark circles under her eyes and fresh blood splattered across her clothes. Her usual companions were missing and Hinamori found that as shocking as her appearance because leaving Iyo was the last thing she ever wanted to do with her execution up in the air.

Captain Hirako burst out of his seat, the chair slamming into the wall behind him, as he rushed to her. "What the hell happened?"

"They know my power," Kazuye started, choking back tears. "Sumika ordered for them to take Iyo. I couldn't—"

"You stay here with her," Captain Hirako ordered, looking at Hinamori. "I'm heading to see the Captain-Commander. He'll hear from me."

Kazuye slumped into the couch, face in her hands, as soon as the door closed noisily.

Hinamori approached her cautiously, casting a look at Urahara who looked concerned himself. "Do you want something to drink? Tea?"

"Something sour." She raised her face, eyes glistening. "And maybe something alcoholic."

"Okay." She nodded and started to the door. She stopped at a thought, turning to her once more. "Hisame-san, where's Akaho-san?"

"Away," she uttered, eyes trained on Urahara. "I couldn't have her persecuted for my sake."

.

.

Hinamori returned to the office with a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemon juice and a ceramic bottle of the strongest sake she could find on short notice. Captain Hirako left Kazuye under her watch and she wanted to accommodate her as much as she wanted to keep her safe. She trusted Urahara Kisuke's suspicious questions were due to interest and that he was not the person Akaho predicted would recognize Kazuye's actions as lies. He said it himself.

She paused at the entrance as their voices reached her ears, stricken.

"…I've been barfing sparkling poison since then," Kazuye confessed, ill. "Someone heard wish-granting was my trade and easily figured out what my strengths were. The Zahir developed a way to annul it. I can't use spiritual energy."

"Do they have permission to mix the two?" asked Urahara. "The concoction is strong enough to kill a man. The chemicals shouldn't be mixed with others outside the equation."

"Like numbers were probably considered and spiritual energy was used to substitute the stronger chemicals." Kazuye made a gagging sound. "I haven't tasted spiritual energy this bad since I was a fourteen."

"What is it like?"

"Like a terrible aftertaste."

"Have you tried creating more?"

"I can't without proper sustenance," she admitted, pausing. "I can't stomach food."

"You can take from another."

It sounded like a suggestion.

"Replenish with another? Are you offering?"

Urahara chuckled. "Can you?"

"I can."

She seemed averse to the idea.

"Why don't you?"

"I need someone with more spiritual energy than I have in reserve to do a complete flush, else there's a chance the poison will stay in my system longer than it would had I let it dissolve."

"There is someone."

"Yes, a teenage boy without power. He is useless to me."

_Kurosaki Ichigo?_

"The Captain-Commander won't allow Sumika to execute Iyo," he eased, sounding confident. "And I'm here on the subject of that powerless teenage boy. You won't need to wait a year for the poison to dissolve."

Hinamori's eyes went wide. _A year?_ She vividly recalled Kazuye's struggle before Captain Hirako covered her eyes. She heard her cries and bones cracking and the violent shuffling over the slippery marble floors. They fed her poison that forced the truth from her lips and a hidden contagion that closed off her ability to use spiritual energy. It would take a whole year for system to wash it away. She didn't have a year.

"How long?" asked Kazuye lowly. "How long do I have to wait?"

"Until I finish the blade."

"Should I expect it sooner or later?"

"Sooner."

Hinamori heard the sound of rustling feet and took several steps back, surprised when she heard Urahara's voice as clearly as she did by the entrance.

"Your death should have broken your oath to Aizen. Why are you still loyal to him?"

Heart hammering in her chest, Hinamori swallowed hard.

"Kazuno was still alive when I died. My oath was still hers."

"Rumor has it that you have been roaming the streets, touring the thirteen divisions, touching every surface available to you"—had Urahara not mentioned it, Hinamori would have never realized that Kazuye had been doing it from the start with a look of deep concentration—"you've been Measuring. Have you finished the model, Kazuye?"

His toned had turned grave.

"What model, Kisuke?" she asked curiously.

"Your model of Soul Society."

"Would you believe me if I said I haven't?"

"No."

The silence was long.

"You do this, Kazuye, and you would be an enemy of Soul Society."

"Soul Society has been cruel to me. Aizen—"

"—is using you."

"And I know it," she said in certainty.

"This makes you my enemy."

"I can live with it, can you?" she asked playfully.

There was no way Hinamori was going in that room. Her opportunity was lost. She didn't mean to eavesdrop when she did, but curiosity won her over and now she had no choice but to listen. She heard it all.

Urahara knew exactly why Kazuye was there and she was nothing short of straightforward. She had nothing to hide.

"Now, I have more important things to do than speak about elaborate Aizen ploys with you." Kazuye's voice sounded closer to the entrance and Hinamori had half a mind to flee had her feet not been glued to the ground. "Honestly, you have such little faith in me. I'm not his monkey, you know. I can ignore the oath. Goodbye, _Urahara-san_."

The door slid open and Kazuye stepped out, catching Hinamori standing close to the corner. She crossed the distance and took the bottle of sake, downing it in one swig.

"Hinamori-san, I'm going to recover my daughter. You can either come with me or join Urahara-san and link my vacation into some wild conspiracy theory about letting Aizen outta his cage." She threw the man a furtive look and huffed. "Everyone just wants a reason to kick me out again when all I wanted was to revisit my childhood memories."

Hinamori was left with little choice but to follow Kazuye and make sure she stayed out of trouble.

.

.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hinamori, hidden beside Kazuye in the foliage within the underground illusion hallway.

The only reason they made it that far down was because the twins from the other day granted them entrance without taking their weapons or marking their skin with the vine-like tattoos. They were firm believers that Sumika's actions had been both unfair and uncalled for and were eager to see the sort of scene that was bound to ensue.

"I haven't thought of that yet," Kazuye admitted, peering through the bushes at the entrance to the Akram Elder's chambers. "I figured my nails were sharp enough to gauge someone's eyes out, so I'm going on that."

Hinamori didn't like her position. She was the one with the sword. "Hisame-san, I think you'll need more than sharp nails. They can use their spiritual energy."

"I really wish Akaho was here. She wouldn't need spiritual energy to rip Sumika a new one."

"Is she really gone?"

"No, she's in the middle of infiltrating the underground prison."

"Oh—" Hinamori sputtered, jerking around to face her. "What?"

"I finished preparations several days ago," she confessed. "The model was completed before the summons, a tad rushed because Akaho scared the shit out of me with her creepy Blood Reading, but I mapped out the whole prison and made an entrance for her before this powerless fiasco."

Hinamori blinked, dumbfounded. "How?"

"I made a model of Soul Society using clay and spun thread full of my spiritual energy," she started, as if tired of explaining it. "It's an exact replica of Soul Society, miniature but exact, and if I decide to add a secret garden to Shinji's bathroom, I'd simply mold it in clay and it'd be there as soon as I can snap my fingers."

"So, you made a door to the underground prison?" Hinamori asked in disbelief.

"I made several," Kazuye corrected.

"Several?"

"It's fine. Everyone will simply think they've been there forever."

"Will it work?"

"Akaho is capable. She'll have it done."

"What will happen once it's done?"

"I'm quitting my day job—_oh, here comes someone._" Kazuye finished with a whisper. "Mind if I borrow your zanpakutō?"

Hinamori tugged it free from her sash and handed it over, thinking she probably should have questioned her about that. She watched a blue-robbed woman walk down the hall, straining to look through the foggy room. She was the same woman Kazuye threatened to behead.

She glimpsed in their direction and Hinamori ducked.

"I've already sensed you," the woman announced. "You're useless without your spellwork."

"Good."

_Thwack!_

A body hit the ground.

Hinamori turned to where Kazuye once was to see the space empty and then raised her eyes. Kazuye tossed the zanpakutō in her direction and she caught it in midair.

She emerged from the foliage to join the witch as Kazuye decided she couldn't be bothered with carrying the body out of sight and started to kick the unconscious woman towards the other end of the forest.

She leaned over with a smile on her face. "Oh, I'm going to make her wish she was never born."

"You don't mean that," Hinamori said, startled.

"I totally mean that."

Footsteps rang behind them. They turned quickly to the archway on the other side, but by then it was too late to jump into the bushes because Sumika and Sumire were standing with a dozen blue-robbed women prepared for any assault on their behalf.

The Akram women smirked proudly.

"You truly are foolish, child," Sumika said, shaking her head in disappointment. "Coming here alone to retrieve your little abomination."

"Hey, Hinamori is standing right there!" snapped Kazuye.

Sumika didn't even spare Hinamori a glance. She was invisible to her, beneath them.

"Apprehend her," Sumika ordered, and then turned to Hinamori, staring straight through her. "You know what to do with that one."

The dozen robbed women appeared all around them in a flash. Kazuye was quick to surrender and Hinamori, once more, had no choice but to follow suit. She had no power among the Nahualli, but she was also aware that they couldn't do anything to her because she was a shinigami of the Gotei 13.

.

.

Hinamori returned to the little glass prison without a sword or the ability to use kidō. Iyo was lying unconscious in seven-barrier prison with blood all over her back and face, despite having a few contusions and scratches. On the other side of the marble room were the four Elders, the Queen, Sumire and the small army of Zahir witches set on treating Kazuye as though she had the power to protect herself from their rough beatings.

Sumika crouched down before Kazuye, fingers curling under her chin. "You poor thing," she cooed. "You have no power to protect your little abomination, yet you are here taking hit after hit…willing to die for her sake. Without your power, you are as good as human, so these"—she ran her fingers down the length of Kazuye's bruised and broken arm, forcing her to wince—"must hurt."

A devious smile played on her lips, but at the sound of Iyo's pained moan, it turned into a frown. Iyo didn't wake. She had been stricken from sudden pain that might have roused her from the darkness before taking her once more.

"That girl of your killed two Zahir witches, two of my strongest."

"Your Zahir endangered my daughter," said Kazuye, blood pouring from her mouth. Dark blotches stained the white marble. "She protected herself."

"Yes, and now we have a reason to execute her."

That had been the plan all along. Kazuye was under no one's protection. If she committed a crime, she would be forced to pay the price. The Nahualli was a group that no one dared cross. Despite their affinity to neutrality, they were vicious once provoked.

Sumika must have planned for this when the Captain-Commander gave her no response to her request.

Hinamori remembered to breathe. The sight of Kazuye's shock was painful to stomach. She only wanted her daughter back, who was wrongfully taken. They started it, but Iyo killed two of their kind, whether or not it was self-defense, the decision of what to do was theirs and that was exactly what Sumika wanted.

"Do it," Kazuye croaked, provoking her. "Do it! Kill her! Kill my girl! Take from me the only weakness I possess! Give me a reason to start a war, to do wrong, to kill—to prove that I am an abomination!"

Sumika straightened, taken aback.

The entire room seemed quieter than ever, a quiet storm brewing.

Kazuye's crazed laughter echoed in the room as she rose on wobbly legs. "I have never had ambitions," she said lowly. "Not when my grandmother advised me to take my crown, not when others helped me understand my power, not when I accepted that you were all a pack of assholes—never have I had ambitions." She raised a crooked finger in the direction of her daughter. "For that girl, I will destroy the Akram lineage and enslave the rest. But you, I will keep you alive."

Hinamori's heart clenched. Those were promises, not mere words. Savagery at its finest; she would give it to them, served on a silver platter.

Outraged, Sumika commanded her Zahir guards to silence her.

Kazuye was forced on her knees, one Zahir on each side, pressing a heavy palm on her shoulder. Three others stood behind her.

"You would threaten me?" asked Sumika, almost skeptical.

"Threaten? That implies uncertainty," Kazuye responded, proud. "I am making an oath. So, please, give me a reason to fulfill this oath to you."

The Elders murmured on their platform, barking out orders to their Queen.

Two words rang out from Sumika's mouth. "Execute her."

"No!" Hinamori breathed, covering her mouth.

A Zahir positioned herself directly in front of Kazuye, positioning her hands on her pallid face to give her neck a clean twist. Kazuye struggled, but the blue-robbed women proved stronger.

"Please don't!" Hinamori cried, wishing someone listened.

She couldn't bear the thought of Iyo waking to see her mother on the ground dead. She couldn't accept Kazuye dead.

The box muffled her screams. She knew. That didn't stop her from protesting—panicking as the Zahir started applying pressure, bit by bit, to make Kazuye scream in agony.

Kazuye bit back the urge. It seemed to take every bit of control to prevent it, biting down hard on her lip and squeezing her eyes shut. There was a moment in which her chest stopped rising and falling when Hinamori started to cry. She didn't want to see this, the pain marring her once beautiful features.

She stopped moving, breathing—and hopefully feeling.

Hinamori choked back a sob, hands cupped to her mouth.

"Mama?"

_Iyo._

Iyo was seated, hands pressed to the barriers sealing her in, eyes wide in realization. "Mama! No! Mama!"

She started kicking the wall with her foot, harder and harder each time, until the first three barriers shattered. She winced the next time she stomped against the forth barrier, having damaged it, but she didn't care. She was the only one that could save her mother, the only one that wasn't tattooed with their seal, and for a moment, she was her only hope.

"It seems the little abomination has woken," Sumika said, aloud. "Sumire, redo the barriers."

Kazuye twitched, opening her eyes to glance in Iyo's direction. She said nothing.

Sumire appeared before Iyo's prison and pressed both hands against the surface, recreating the three barriers Iyo broke in the blink of an eye.

Iyo grew frustrated, pounding away harder. She was screaming incoherently, legs shaking with the damage they sustained.

Kazuye let out a strained sound and Hinamori could tell that just the right amount of pressure would snap her neck. It would be over. The Zahir grinned in anticipation and for the last time, Kazuye struggled—

The entrance burst open and a powerful voice rang out. "Get away from her."

Hinamori blinked tears from her eyes, watching five Zahir women scurry back to their ground as the Captain Commander appeared in her line of sight. Kazuye slammed into the ground, pushing her body onto its back and inhaled the air, her hands flew to her neck.

Sumika opened her mouth to provide reason, but the older man cut her off. "Hisame Kazuye is under my protection and so are the two young women in her company, execute either one of them and you can expect to find our treaty broken."

"They killed many Zahir!" snapped Sumika, then pointed an accusing finger at Kazuye. "She's threatened to enslave us."

"You took Hisame Iyo from her home without my consent," he answered, the aura surrounding him was heavy. "The girl retaliated in her right. You have no valid crimes to accuse them of." He glanced in Hinamori's direction. "And let's not forget you have taken a lieutenant of my Gotei 13 prisoner and there are consequences to that."

"She entered here of her own volition! To aid this abomination!"

"Hinamori Momo was merely following orders. It was her job to keep an eye on Hisame Kazuye, not protect her, and she raised no blade against you nor has she made threats. You have taken an innocent prisoner."

Kazuye coughed violently, blood falling everywhere.

"Release them and I will forget this incident," Yamamoto bargained.

Sumika bristled. She waved a hand in Sumire's direction and in an instant Hinamori and Iyo were released.

Iyo scampered to her mother's side, dropping down to wrap her arms around her. She was wailing, promising to be good and listen and learn all the spellwork she wanted.

Hinamori bowed appreciatively to her superior, thanking him in a quiet voice.

"Then let us forget this incident," Sumika said, defeated.

Yamamoto glanced in Kazuye's direction as he turned. Iyo was planting kisses all over her face before noticing and thanking him for speaking up in their favor. She spoke the words her mother wanted to say but couldn't.

He started stepping away, but halted. He returned to the two witches and offered Kazuye his hand—a peace offering from the Captain-Commander if she ever saw one.

Kazuye lifted a shaky hand to his, accepting his aid. He pulled her onto her feet and started toward the entrance without another word.

Hinamori joined them, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Iyo dragged them all into a group hug before Hinamori helped the two of them wobble their way out of the underground and past the alley entrance near Eight Division.

Yamamoto entrusted her to escort them to Fourth Division to have their wounds tended before leaving them.

.

.

Captain Unohana mended both Kazuye and Iyo as soon as they entered the Relief Center and intimidated both into avoiding all form of physical exertion for the next couple of days. They were discharged because Captain Unohana recognized Akaho as an able caretaker, which brought into question when had the Fourth Division captain come to that conclusion, but nobody asked.

Kazuye wanted to sleep. Iyo reverted to her child form, having exhausted her spiritual energy. Hinamori wanted to rest her aching feet and eat something before calling it a day.

It was dark out when they reached their First Division home to the smell of food and a scene of destruction. Kazuye admired the sheer power hanging in the air—electrifying. There was static everywhere.

"Akaho-san!" called Kazuye. "I need a bath and some alcohol!"

Hinamori followed Kazuye into her bedroom. It seemed to be the only one in three that had remained intact. The bottomless trunk sat open, several futons were stacked in the corner and the closet was opened. Dark clothes littered the floor.

The bathroom was partly open, steam pouring from within. Kazuye noticed. "That was fast."

Kazuye prepared a futon for Iyo and gestured for Hinamori to put her down after carrying her all the way from Fourth Division. Hinamori tucked the slumbering girl in, smiling down at her when a piece of cloth fell over her head.

"Oops, sorry."

Kazuye snatched it away, holding a hand over her bare chest.

Hinamori dropped her gaze, a flush appearing on her cheeks. "I should get going."

"I think Akaho made food, you can drop by the kitchen and get some," said Kazuye, turning her back to her as she sauntered to the bathroom in only her pants. "I'll be there as soon as I scrub the blood off my skin."

Something caught her eye. Hinamori lifted them to see a tattoo blooming across the shaman's right hip, sprawled across her back like thin limbs. Tiny words and symbols webbed between the various branches, reaching up to her right shoulder blade. It sat completely on one side, a mark in black.

Even when Kazuye was sunbathing, Hinamori had never seen the tattoo before.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo, Hisame-san," Hinamori breathed.

Kazuye paused at the door, looking over her shoulder and down her back. "Oh yeah, it's a rite of passage." She shrugged and her hair fell across her back, covering most of the tattoo.

Hinamori started to the door silently as Kazuye entered the bathroom.

She screamed.

Hinamori rushed back into the room. "Hisame-san?"

"Why are you in my tub?" snapped Kazuye, back slamming to the door. "—Don't be sarcastic, get out!"

A low voice responded.

"I said I'd get you out not put a roof over your head—"

"Hisame-san, are you okay?" called Hinamori loudly, eyebrows creased in confusion.

Kazuye poked her head out the door as water fell to the floor, steam rolled out overhead lazily. "Hinamori-san, I'll be fine."

.

.

Akaho was in a mood.

Regardless, she received Hinamori with unfeigned pleasantness and offered her tea, which she accepted. Hinamori reiterated the events of that day at her request and sighed, the warm liquid filled her with relief. It relaxed her muscles and made her drowsy.

"What did you do today?" asked Hinamori, innocent enough.

"The last favor I will ever do for Kazuye," Akaho answered, jaw clenched.

Hinamori turned to the door when she heard it opening and as soon as Kazuye stepped into the room in front of Aizen Sōsuke, her grip on her mug slackened and it smashed to the ground, the liquid soaking in the wood.

"Good evening, Hinamori-kun."

He greeted her as if nothing had happened and it infuriated her, a silent wrath that challenged the amount of guilt she built up.

Hinamori left her seat silently, stepping around the broken shards. "Hisame-san, I'm going home now." She bade farewell to Akaho, then turned to Kazuye one last time before leaving. "Please visit Fifth Division tomorrow morning."

"Thank you for everything."

* * *

Kazuye took a washcloth from the counter and bent down to clean the broken mug. She cut her finger with a particularly sharp piece and heard Akaho sigh exasperatedly. She ignored her and let the cloth soak in the liquid before tossing it across the counter to the sink. She took a seat to Aizen's left, leaving a stool in between. She glimpsed in his direction. He looked terrible like he needed a whole chicken and a haircut to start with some major life adjustments.

He caught her staring. She felt stupid.

She looked to Akaho, who glared at her. She felt stupider.

To be in a room where she felt stupid was something she certainly did not miss.

"Did something happen?" asked Kazuye, noting the tension.

"Ask him."

Kazuye glanced at Aizen, who smirked. No intention of saying a thing.

"Akaho, please."

"He locked me in his cell," she bit out. "Of course, he stabbed me first."

She turned to him for confirmation, to which he responded, "You sent your lover to release me."

Kazuye rolled her eyes, pushing herself out of her seat. She didn't have time for this. She met him face to face. "I can put you back where I found you, you remember that."

.

.

Kazuye couldn't sleep with Iyo's snoring and Akaho's curled body in the corner of the room, waking every other minute to make sure she was still in the room. She slipped out of bed, the floor creaking noisily under her weight. She pushed herself onto a seat.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Akaho, startling her.

"To pee!" she cried, getting on her feet.

Kazuye stepped out of the room, tugging on a sweater. She winced; her bones were tender from the healing. It was easier to mend them by using spellwork and since her spiritual energy remained blocked by the poison, she used Captain Unohana as a conduit. That sort of spellwork left her exhausted. She needed the sleep.

A cold breeze hit her face like pins and needles. She burrowed her hands in her pockets when she sat on the steps leading into her laughable backyard and stared absently at the patch of green sprouting in her vegetable garden.

She regretted not going to the bathroom now. She needed to go, but she didn't want to stand up. She found some warmth and she knew if she got up, she wouldn't find it again when she returned.

"Oh gods, I want to die," she confessed.

"That can be arranged."

Kazuye yelped, spying Aizen leaning on the other side of the verandah, looking as though he had been there long before she seated herself. She wanted to cry because she nearly pissed herself, but didn't want to humiliate herself.

"Please go away," she groaned, rubbing her face. She leaned her face into the framework. "I just want to sleep."

"Outside?"

"Iyo is snoring." She closed her eyes, assimilating to the cool surface against her cheek. It felt good on her prickly muscles like an ice pack to fresh bruises. "Akaho is hounding me. You shouldn't have stabbed her. She's going to leave me and it's all your fault."

"Fujitani-san is weak-willed," he explained, approaching her. "She will be your undoing."

"Akaho worships me, despite all my faults and mistakes. She couldn't fathom betraying me."

Aizen stood beside her. "But she will."

"No, she won't."

"You sound so confident."

"Because I am. I trust her more than I do you."

"I haven't betrayed you," he reminded her.

"Not yet," she countered.

"Not yet," he agreed, glimpsing at her through the corner of his eye.

Kazuye grumbled noisily.

"Why don't you have power?" he asked, expertly changing the subject.

"Because the Akram hags agreed to have me poisoned on their quest for truth," she remarked. "They didn't believe Iyo was yours. There were reliable sources spreading that rumor, I made sure of it. There were people that were dead scared of Iyo because they thought she was your daughter."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"I know, I just wanted you to know how much trouble you caused me. My right arm was broken three times in the span of a week because of you and I really don't want to talk about my nose or the fact that my neck was nearly snapped. I almost died." Kazuye drew her collar up as the temperature drop. "I have no idea how you managed to get that letter to Hinamori—"

He gave her a look.

"I'm not asking you to explain," she snapped. She faced forward, letting her emotions settle. "Are we done now? Have I earned my freedom?"

"Done?" He chuckled, his face lit with moonlight and streaked in shadow. "This is just the beginning."

Nahualli | **END**

. .

[ **1** ] _Xinechtlapopolhui_, Nahuatl for "I'm sorry or excuse me." Given the context in which this was used, you can guess it was the former.

[ **2** ] The name Ixchel, pronounced "Eee-SHELL," means "Rainbow Lady."

* * *

**xl note**: Yeah, I totally just ended it there. I wish I had something better to say other than I miraculously accomplished what I needed to with Nahualli and it was a fun trip, which goes to prove that I can finish a series if I set my mind to it and that I can write a short story.

On that note, I'm not done with Kazuye. This was a bit of an experiment to see if I could write something people could enjoy even though it's AizenOC. I'll be writing a prequel to this that follows Kazuye's time in Soul Society and in the Human World that is jammed packed with my signature twists and turns. I know people would usually write that sort of story first, but I've never done things normally. I write out of order-don't ever do this, it's a terrible thing when you've got a long story to tell.

So...feel free to join me with the prequel. Omixochitl will be released on February 2.

It will address Kazuye's parentage, how Aizen convinced her mother to make that oath to him, there is a love triangle, Iyo and Akaho will make a late appearance, but they will show up. All the loose strings will be knotted together in the sequel.

As always, many thanks to the people who favorited/alerted/reviewed the story. Especially, **BookLover2401** and **KawaiiRiniBunny** for reviewing the previous chapter.

Thank you for following me on this short journey and hope you embark on the longer one (only if you want). Thank you for reading!

If anyone has questions, please feel free to ask them. I'll gladly answer them. :)


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